


Some Sort of Magnetism

by uitonii



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And then they’re stupid and in love, Background Relationships, Bullying, Getting Together, Kingsley Shacklebolt: Voice of Reason, M/M, Oblivious Sirius, Pining, Ravenclaw!Remus, Secondary Plot if You Squint Real Hard, Sirius and Remus are at each other’s throats until they’re not, Slow Burn, first wizarding war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uitonii/pseuds/uitonii
Summary: It hadn’t begun on purpose. Remus was adamant on that point, but somewhere along the line he sunk deep into the habit and couldn’t let it go. Sirius Black wasn’t like anyone Remus knew, and to say he knew the boy was a far reach. They weren’t friends, let alone acquaintances, but Sirius made sure everyone at Hogwarts knew who he was, and Remus followed his trajectory involuntarily.(Or: Sirius Black is a nosy git and Remus Lupin is the unluckiest wizard in the world)





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, I got it into my head to revise this monster before I got too deep into it. Not much has changed - just some edits to the writing and a couple scenes added in to fix some plot holes that had been bothering me. Nothing added will change the existing storyline too much, for those of you who have been around for a while and might not want to read through the whole thing again. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Y'all keep me writing.

Remus Lupin was a creature of habit. It felt near impossible to be anything else when the moon pulled at his bones month after month, and when he found such comfort in the routines he could control. He sunk into the same worn, leather chair of the Ravenclaw common room every night with books he knew by heart, spines cracked at his favorite parts; he took the same labyrinthine trek to the Great Hall each morning to admire the sun shining over the Forbidden Forest’s treetops; he took his tea with too much cream and one sugar and refused to leave the Great Hall without having finished every drop. He supposed he could be accused of being boring, with the same little things he did each day, but he found a semblance of normal in them when his whole life felt very much abnormal. He rather liked his habits, and was hard-pressed to find something else he liked so much. They were within his control when everything else felt very much out of it.

That wasn’t to say he liked  _ all  _ of his habits - Kingsley certainly complained enough about some of them - but it was part of the routine and so Remus didn’t worry about them too much. He could tolerate humming off-key while he got ready in the morning, or running his fingers over old scars when he was thinking, drawing more attention to them than he’d have liked.

One habit that he desperately wished he could shake, however, was how often he caught himself staring at Sirius Black.

It hadn’t begun on purpose. Remus was adamant on that point, but somewhere along the line he sunk deep into the habit and couldn’t let it go. Sirius Black wasn’t like anyone Remus knew, and to say he knew the boy was a far reach. They weren’t friends, let alone acquaintances, but Sirius made sure everyone at Hogwarts knew who he was, and Remus followed his trajectory involuntarily.

The boy was reckless and loud, and altogether too mischievous for anyone’s good. Trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went and he welcomed it like an old friend, like it was as good a companion to him as the two boys he spent all of his time with. He laughed easily and with frequency, and he basked in attention in a way that Remus could never do. He was the complete opposite of Remus in every way that he could see, but he couldn’t ignore him.

Remus was in his third year when it started, when Sirius was assigned as his partner in class and Professor Flitwick tasked them with the Cheering Charm. The wizard had warned them against heavy-handedness before pairing them off, an obvious attempt at separating Housemates and friends who would otherwise clump together and goof off. Remus had been nervous, approaching Sirius where he sat at the back of the room, and envious that Kingsley was paired with Lily Evans, who would undoubtedly perform the charm perfectly.

As it turned out, Remus had cause to worry. Delight gleamed in Sirius’ eyes and before Remus could register the jabbing motion of Sirius’ wand, he was bent over with laughter, everything suddenly much funnier than it had been just seconds ago. The professor’s combed over hair, Dirk Cresswell’s too-tight robes, the obscene-looking flowers on Flitwick’s desk that reminded Remus of an anatomy lesson… he could hardly catch his breath.

It was only when Professor Flitwick escorted him from the room that Remus realized what Sirius had done, and the absurdity of it made him giggle that much harder. Later, once Madam Pomfrey looked him over and administered a Calming Draught, he wondered if anyone Sirius had partnered with was destined to such a fate, or if it had been something special about him.

From that moment on, he was hyper aware of the boy in hallways and classrooms, weary of him should Remus prove an easy target for future pranks. It began as a form as self preservation, and lasted all throughout third year. It was good that he’d started keeping tabs on the Gryffindor, he told himself, as he was able to avoid many of the Ravenclaw-centric pranks the Marauders pulled. He’d even managed to avoid partnering with him in class, always trading seats or pulling whatever sympathy his teachers had for him to pair with someone else. He refused to be victim to mischief again.

And then Remus went home for summer hols and mostly forgot about Sirius and the trouble he caused. He had other things to preoccupy his mind, like his father’s most recent lead on a cure for his lycanthropy (which, unsurprisingly, was a dead end), and his mother’s insistence that they plant a garden in the backyard. Two full moons in the underground cellar left him weak and hurt, anyways, so he barely left the house in the weeks that followed transformations. Thus, he was completely unprepared when he returned from the holidays only to find that Sirius was taller than last he’d seen him, his jawline more defined than he remembered, and his silver eyes absolutely captivating. Something about the way Sirius smirked at him in the Entrance Hall twisted Remus’ stomach in knots, similar yet entirely different than the anxiety he’d felt before, and alarm bells rung. He told himself it had to do with post-traumatic stress, thinking back on a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and then quickly looked away. It didn’t occur to him to feel strange about the whole thing until he caught himself staring quite absent-mindedly a few weeks later, tracing the lines of Sirius’ fingers as he tapped them against a table in class. Sirius caught his eye and smirked, and the feeling came rushing back.

That kept happening, again and again. Remus learned to hide it better, to feign innocence if Sirius ever caught him staring. He asked himself  _ why _ on more than one occasion, but was too afraid of the honesty in an answer and so he stopped asking, only pausing long enough to wonder if it was normal for a fourteen year old boy to pay so much attention to another fourteen year old boy. He was quite sure it wasn’t, which only terrified him further.

If Kingsley ever noticed during that year, he didn’t let on, and for that Remus was grateful.

But then fifth year passed much of the same way in that regard, Remus obviously pining but refusing to admit to it, and Kingsley dutifully playing dumb. Remus never admitted it outloud, but he knew Kingsley had an idea about his feelings. He’d caught him in the act too many times to count and never judged Remus for it, or demanded an explanation, or made him feel strange. And, Kingsley had already proven himself more than capable of keeping a secret. If Remus ever mustered up the courage to admit how he felt when he looked at Sirius Black, Kingsley would go to his grave with the secret.

Remus hoped that when fifth year ended, OWLs complete and granted freedom for the summer, something would change over the holiday as it had when he was fourteen. He hoped that he’d meet a cute girl and forget about the boy at school who didn’t even know his name. He hoped he’d feel normal for once, like the other boys his age, and he could return to Hogwarts with the habit broken.

But, he didn’t meet a cute girl. He couldn’t forget the boy who didn’t even know his name, and he certainly didn’t feel normal, not after a painful full moon or dreams about inky black hair and silver eyes and mischief. He returned to Kings Cross Station and searched for Sirius on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, like he was testing himself, and hated the way his heart sped up at the sight of him. He’d failed. And then, much like that same night two years prior, Sirius caught his eye and smirked before pulling himself onto the Hogwarts Express after his friends, and Remus knew one thing to be true.

He was, as Kingsley would say, absolutely fucked.


	2. Reginald

“Oi, Sirius, that Ravenclaw is staring at us.”

It was too early in the morning for vagueness, especially as it was the first morning since June that Sirius was awake before eleven. Sirius had spent the entire summer with James, not to mention five years in a dorm, but somehow his friend had not learned this one crucial lesson. “Which Ravenclaw, James? There are approximately fifty in the Great Hall alone.”

James leveled Sirius with a look that could have turned him into stone if there wasn’t marmalade up his nose, which Sirius was now determined not to point out until after he’d said hello to Lily Evans that morning. “You know the one. The bloke that turned Slughorn’s mustache purple,” he said, jabbing his egg-laden fork in his friend’s direction.

That certainly rang some bells. That Ravenclaw was notoriously bad at Potions, if Sirius remembered correctly, and always provided some entertainment in blowing up cauldrons and causing mayhem. It was a great shame the boy wasn't in Gryffindor, or been terrible on purpose. “Of course. That bloke is a hero; a legend to honor for ages to come,” he replied. “What’s his name, again?”

“Robert?” James offered.

“Reginald!” Peter confidently added, stealing a mouthful of toast from James’ plate while he wasn’t looking.

“Poor bloke,” Sirius bemoaned the Ravenclaw’s unfortunate name with a wry twist of his lips. “So, he’s staring, you say? What for?” His eyes danced across the Great Hall until they settled on the familiar face of a boy who looked as though he’d been caught stealing a licorice wand from Honeydukes. He felt a strange sense of deja-vu.

James sighed. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have said anything. It’s starting to give me the creeps, though.”

\--

Remus jolted out of his reverie. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring, again, and it only registered when Potter pointed right at him, accusatory and sending white hot shame to his belly. He ducked his head and tried to appear innocent, pushing his uneaten eggs around on his plate. It was only the first day of classes and he was already screwing things up. He had spent the entire summer telling himself he wouldn't do this again, and it took less than a day to fall back on the habit. He spared a glance back at the table and found that no one from Gryffindor House was watching him any longer. Maybe it wasn't him they'd been looking for - Severus Snape was sporting a rather unfortunate haircut somewhere behind him, after all.

“Oi, Remus, you alright?” Kingsley tapped his foot to Remus’ shin under the table, full mouth set in an unhappy line. "You haven't touched your tea."

Remus finally met his friend’s gaze and nodded. Spurned into action, he grabbed for the teacup and pretended he'd just been waiting for it to cool from scalding. “Just fine. Just spaced out for a moment, that’s all. It's strange being back.”

Conspiratorially, Kingsley leaned forward. “Is it the moon? It’s just two days away; I know you don’t always feel—“

“No, no, it’s not that,” Remus reassured him with a wrinkled brow. “I feel fine. Just spaced out. That's all.”

Kingsley pursed his lips and stole a glance over his shoulder at what (or rather,  _ who _ ) he suspected Remus’ attention had been preoccupied by, and then slowly turned back around. The way his brow cocked at Remus was anything but sympathetic. “Right.”

_Bugger_. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” _Like he didn't know._

“Like I’m an idiot.”

Smirking, Kingsley shrugged. “I didn’t say anything. But now that you mention it...” Remus thwacked him as hard as he could, but Kingsley only laughed. He took small consolation in watching his friend rub at the arm later when he didn't think Remus was looking.

\--

It was just their luck that Double Potions was their first class of the new term, and Kingsley had to all but drag Remus down to the dungeons to make it there on time. It was widely known throughout their house and anyone who’d had the misfortune to share Potions with their year that Remus Lupin was decidedly Not Very Good at Potions (some might say catastrophic), and no one partnered with him unless tethered by friendship (Kingsley) or command. Slughorn only forced an unwitting peer to partner with Remus when it was dealt as a punishment, and he wasn’t heartless enough to do it unless provoked. Lily Evans actually sat with him once their fourth year in a misguided attempt to help him, but kept her distance after his potion boiled over onto her sweater and the sleeve began to grow fur. It was a miracle Remus somehow managed to get an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ on his O.W.L.S. and passed onto N.E.W.T.-level Potions his sixth year, which he thought might have been accomplished solely by his performance on the theoretical exam.

Needless to say, Potions (let alone Double Potions) was Remus’ least favorite class. It did not bode well for the rest of this term, either, that it begun this way.

“Alright, settle down!” Professor Slughorn tried very hard to intimidate as students began flooding the dungeon. He was easily drowned out by the sound of twenty-four teenagers arguing over which friend they’d sit beside and raucous laughter over a dirty joke that had been made in the hallway, but it didn't stop the old man from trying. Once everyone found their seats, it still took a minute or so before everyone quieted enough for Slughorn’s pleas to be heard. Remus settled into a spot near the front and fought off the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“Yes, yes, I know, you’d much rather be chatting with your friends, discussing your summers, but we have a lesson to get onto!” Slughorn said. “Firstly, let me welcome you back to these hallowed halls. It is my great pleasure to see all of you in this classroom and begin your N.E.W.T.-level studies. You should all be very proud of yourselves to have come this far – some more than others—“ Slughorn’s eyes turned to Remus and he groaned at the ripple of laughter that this was met with, “—and I hope this term will be as educational as it will be fun.”

Slughorn clapped his hands once and flashed them all a self-satisfied smile. “Now, to begin, I thought we could focus more on the fun, than the educational; just to see what you’ve remembered over the summer! Please, gather your things and come to the front while I assign you partners.” It was difficult to hear the instructions he gave next over the cacophonous moans and scraping of chairs, everyone reluctantly leaving their seats to await their fate. Remus could feel eyes on him as he moved towards the front, knowing what they were thinking without them even having to say it. No one wanted him as a partner, and he couldn’t really blame them, especially after Slughorn's reminder.

As everyone abandoned their previously claimed seats, Slughorn began pairing them off, careful to put students together that were not in the same house. It would be admirable, his preference for House Unity, if he didn’t show preferential treatment elsewhere.

“McKinnon with Bones – be a good sport, my dear,” the professor read off a list of names he’d compiled before the lesson. “Fenwick with Evans – no, Mr. Potter, you may not switch partners once they have been assigned, please sit down – now, where was I? Oh, yes, Shacklebolt with Marigold, if you’d please, and Nott with Longbottom.” He was coming to the end of his list and the number of people left at the front of the room slowly dissipated as pairs were taking their new seats.

Remus was awfully aware of how he’d been saved for one of the last and how few potential partners were left for him to terrorize throughout the morning. With a great, uncomfortable thump beneath his ribcage, he turned his head and realized that Sirius Black was looking straight at him, still unassigned. Their numbers were  _ dwindling _ and it did not look good. Beside him, Pandora Inglebee offered a pleasant smile, blue eyes crinkling at the edges and filling Remus with momentary hope. Pandora was kind enough, and never seemed to mind when they were paired together. She was one of the few others in Ravenclaw that Remus said hello to in the hall or sometimes studied with in the common room. He thought, for just a moment, that Professor Slughorn would show mercy and put them together.

“Inglebee and…” the Potions professor trailed off, looking down at his list. Remus’ heart was pounding comically fast. “And Snape, please.” Pandora’s smile turned sympathetic, as though she could read his mind, and then moved away to join a glaring Snape at his table. Remus wanted to vomit, knowing what would come next.

“Alright, Lupin and Black, off you go. There’s a table available right over there,” Slughorn motioned to an empty spot and Remus ducked his head to move towards it without making any eye contact with his partner. He could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of his head as they walked in tandem.

“I’ve assigned each pair a different potion to work on during our time together, but you will not know which potion it is, exactly, until it has been tested. You will notice that while your directions differ from pair to pair, your ingredients remain the same. At the end of the period, you will turn in a vial for grading.” Pleased with himself, Slughorn sent them off with a grin, and retreated to his desk.

Remus still hadn’t spared a glance at his partner, pretending to busy himself with reading the ingredients list that had been left on their table. He was afraid his heart was beating so loudly that Sirius would be able to hear it, as ridiculous as that was, but after getting caught red-handed in the Great Hall that morning, he couldn’t risk it. Merlin knew what he had done to deserve this hell.

“Reginald, isn’t it?”

“What?” Determination be damned; Remus swiveled in his chair to look at the other boy, mind catching up to what was said a second too late. It took no time at all for the tips of his ears to turn pink with embarrassment.

“Your name is Reginald, right?” Sirius asked again. His stupid mouth was curved in that smirk, and Remus was suddenly glad he was sitting. It was painful enough to experience from afar, but up close it made Remus’ knees go wobbly and his stomach drop.

“No,” _Merlin, he couldn't believe this was happening._ “It’s Remus. Like the Roman myth.”

Sirius wrinkled his nose like he’d smelled something rotten and Remus’ whole face felt like it was going up in flames. “I suppose it’s not as bad as Reginald, but it isn’t much better, is it?”

“Excuse me?” If a hole opened up in the middle of the dungeon floor, Remus would have gladly jumped down into it.

“You weren’t very fortunate in the naming department, were you? I feel sorry for you, mate.”

More embarrassed than he thought possible, Remus gathered their list and wordlessly abandoned his seat to fetch what they needed from the pantry. He wondered if it was too late to leave the classroom and never come back.

\--

After all was said and done, Remus wasn’t too furious with how the morning went. Sirius didn’t mention his parents’ eclectic tastes in baby names after he’d returned from the pantry with everything they needed, and only made a few jokes at his expense as they brewed their potion together. There had been a time in their fourth year when Remus had managed to botch a simple, run-of-the-mill Girding Potion and gave himself and anyone who sat near a magnificently horrible body odor for three days, and Sirius remembered this thirty minutes into brewing their potion. He had completely forgotten that it was Remus at fault for it, but looked back on it fondly, he said. Considering he couldn’t even remember Remus’ name, he was surprised Sirius could remember the mishap at all.

“You're not too good at this, are you?” Sirius asked after they fell back into silence.

When Remus looked up from his cutting board, he found Sirius watching at him. He was stirring the opalescent potion lazily with his chin resting in the palm of his hand, and Remus wanted to scream, the boy made being cool look so effortless.

“I'm just fine at Potions. I've made it into this class, haven't I?” Remus huffed. He drew his knife down savagely to prove the point, and immediately felt a sharp stab of pain. He yelped, popping his injured finger into his mouth to sooth it.

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. “Sure, you are! Just fine, indeed.”

“Shouldn't you be paying attention to that?” Remus snapped, motioning to the bubbling cauldron with his finger still in his mouth.

The infuriating boy just shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. It has to be stirred for a while.”

“‘A while’? Is that what it says in the instructions?”

A lazy grin spread across Sirius’ face and, honestly, wasn't life unfair? “Pretty much. I'm not concerned with the particulars.”

Remus didn’t know what to say to that, so he turned back to his task and tried to ignore the way his partner studied him throughout the next hour. His skin itched with the intensity of it. If he ever noticed it, was this how Sirius felt whenever Remus looked on for too long?

Fifteen minutes to the end of the period, Remus bottled their potion and brought it to Slughorn to inspect, who seemed hesitant to touch it at first. But, much to his surprise and delight, the potion was not volatile, and Slughorn deemed their attempt “adequate” and praised the boy for his improvement over the summer. Remus didn’t want to tell him that Sirius had done most of the brewing while he sat in mortified silence, chopping and crushing things and trying very hard not to cut his other fingers, so he accepted the praise and hurried back to his seat. Apparently, mortification was the only way to keep Remus focused long enough in Potions to not bugger everything up.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Kingsley later said, dutifully waiting for his friend to pack up at the end of the period. Most of the other students had already filed out, including all of the Gryffindors, and Remus was only just starting to not feel like a complete moron.

Glaring, Remus slung his bag over his shoulder and followed him out of the dungeon, grateful for the lunch hour and free period that greeted them now. “Easy for you to say. You were paired with Caliopal – she got an Outstanding on her Potions O.W.L.,” Remus grumbled. “Black spent all morning making fun of me! Did you know he thought my name was  _ Reginald?  _ Reginald! We’ve been classmates for six years now, and he didn’t even know my name!”

“Well, you haven’t given him much of a chance to learn it, have you?” Kingsley countered, and Remus stared with mouth agape, totally affronted.

“What?”

“Well, you haven’t really spoken to him much. Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that, mate. You know I’m right. You have been head over heels for the bloke since we were fourteen and you haven’t done a thing about it.”

Remus sputtered, eyes frantic as he looked for possible eavesdroppers in their vicinity, but they were alone. “Are you insane? Don’t say it out loud! Someone might hear you!” he hissed.

Shrugging, Kingsley led them on, up a staircase and finally out of the dungeons and onto the ground floor. Their path to the Great Hall was a familiar one, and Kingsley fell into step beside his best friend as naturally as he breathed. “Look, Remus, all I’m saying is that this can’t really be a surprise. You can’t expect someone to know anything about you when you haven’t made any effort to help them along. I'd hardly count pining from a distance.”

“I...I’ve made an  _ effort _ . Maybe.”

“No, you haven’t. You barely made an effort with me at first. You’re too scared to let anyone get to know you because of the whole--” Kingsley made a vague circular motion with his hand, which Remus didn’t have to think too hard on to realize what he was referring to, “--thing, but then you get upset when someone treats you like a stranger.” They stopped outside the doors of the Great Hall and Kingsley looked down at him, not with condescension but with pity, and Remus felt his stomach drop. Merlin, he hated when Kingsley was onto something.

“You’ve been reading your sister’s books again, haven’t you?”

All of Kingsley’s seriousness melted away with a sheepish grin. “She’s got good tastes. That doesn’t mean I’m not right, though.”

_ No,  _ Remus thought reluctantly,  _ it doesn’t. _


	3. Curses

Sirius was used to attention. It came with being Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black, and subsequently the Delinquent and Disowned Son of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. He’d never minded how strangers knew his familial ties just by looking at him, or how they treated him differently when they glimpsed the signet ring he once reluctantly wore. The staring had been his normal for so long that sometimes he forgot it should make him uncomfortable.

When he came to Hogwarts, it wasn’t much different - children raised in the wizarding world knew of his family and they stared because they’d heard their parents whisper about the Blacks’ power, their prestige, sometimes even their insanity. The ignorant ones were quickly enlightened when he destroyed a longstanding tradition of Slytherin-house, as though he’d been overcome with acrimony towards everything his family stood for - which, admittedly, he did the longer he was away from home - and purposefully sorted himself into Gryffindor. Five years later and his older cousins still shot hexes at him when they caught sight of his red and gold.

Once the shock of his blood and rebellion wore off, the pranks forcibly took hold of everyone’s attention and Sirius relished in it. He was no longer _just_ Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Black - he was a Marauder. It was a title he willingly shared with the only two boys he cared to spend much time with, as James Potter never once balked at him at that fateful Sorting Ceremony, and Peter Pettigrew would follow the two boys to hell and back, if it meant he was included. Sirius did not mind the Howlers he received after letters arrived home describing his recent troublemaking, so long as he kept an identity separate from his family.

Sirius had to admit his looks had something to do with the staring, too. Puberty had been kind to him, even if he was two inches shorter than his best friend and sometimes temperamental in a way that was decidedly unattractive. He could not be blessed with his father’s dazzling silver eyes and strong jawline without also being cursed with his mother’s instability, after all. Life was not anything but fair to him.

When Sirius returned to Hogwarts for his sixth year, he was stared at for his disownment. And that, Sirius thought, wasn’t so bad. It had been done in all but legality from the moment he slipped on the Sorting Hat, anyways.

All of that to say, the Gryffindor was not bothered by the gazes that followed him from room to room, or the whispers he caught snippets of as he traipsed through corridors. He’d gotten used to them long ago. But, there was one person that made Sirius’ skin prickle with the attention, and he had only just learned his name that morning, even though he felt like he’d caught him staring so many times before.

“You were wrong. His name is Remus.”

Sirius plopped down across from his best friends as they found their usual spot for lunch, and only Peter had the audacity to look confused. Sirius thought he’d been pretty clear.

“What’re you on about, Sirius?”

Shoveling food onto his plate, James answered for him, “You mean that bloke in Potions?” He turned to Peter. “Didn’t you say his name was Reginald? That's way off, mate.”

“You didn’t know it either! But, 'Remus' isn’t much better,” Peter admitted as he took the serving spoon from James and took stock of their options before digging in himself.

“That’s what _I_ said. He didn’t take too kindly to that, but he has to know it’s true, right? What kind of parent names their child Remus?” Sirius asked to no one in particular, ignoring the way James’ brow shot up, as if Sirius’ name was any better.

Through a mouthful of beef ale pie, Peter pointed that out in barely conceivable tones, and was promptly met with a thwack to the back of his head. It was a testament to Peter’s regard for food and his belief in not wasting a morsel of it that he didn’t spit any of it out in indignation. “What do you care?” he finally said once he’d managed to swallow, shooting James a contemptuous glare.

“I don’t,” Sirius bristled, “but the bugger is a little titchy. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“So? A lot of people don’t like you ver-”

This time, it was Sirius that reached across the table to smack him. “Finish that sentence, and I’ll tell Marlene McKinnon what you say in your sleep,” he warned. It earned him a rude hand gesture that was very quickly put down when McGonagall swept into the Great Hall.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that the Ravenclaw didn’t seem to like him, because Peter was right - plenty of people in the school didn’t think very highly of him and it never bothered him until now - but he didn’t like how it made him feel. He didn’t think he had a name for it, but the deja-vu he'd felt before lingered, something about it niggling at the back of his mind for the rest of the morning. How had he never noticed his attention before?

“He spends a lot of time with Shacklebolt, doesn’t he? Maybe he’s cross with you for setting Shacklebolt’s robes on fire last term,” James suggested.

“For once, dear James, that was an accident. And if you’ll remember correctly, he set my robes on fire first.”

“Sure, it was an _accident_ ,” Peter repeated with a knowing smile.

“It was! Bloody hell, forget I said anything and pass me the potatoes, would you?”

James turned the conversation to Evans after the subject was eventually dropped and Sirius’ gaze wandered, absentmindedly flicking over to the Ravenclaw table. Remus wasn’t there yet. _Good,_ Sirius thought, allowing himself to relax and make jabs at his best friend’s expense while he ate. Maybe he was just fretting over nothing.

\--

By the end of the day, Remus was still thinking about what Kingsley said.

He hadn’t let it bother him as they ate lunch together, or went throughout the rest of their afternoon classes, but it kept him up at night. The full moon was just two nights away and Remus was feeling restless, the wolf itching beneath his skin to be let out. It wasn’t hard to let something so small and inconsequential keep him from falling asleep on a normal night, and so he stared up at the indigo painted ceiling for hours, wishing he was outside beneath the stars instead.

_And by all means, you've made yourself a stranger to everyone._

Kingsley wasn’t wrong. A little melodramatic, maybe, but not wrong. He knew Remus better than anyone, even his own parents, and Kingsley knew the pains Remus took to keep his distance from people. It wasn’t because he didn’t like people - they weren’t the problem. _He_ was the problem. He had too many secrets to keep close to his chest, and the ones who knew already felt like too many, even if it was necessary. Remus didn’t want to risk anyone’s safety or suffer the pain of losing a friend once they realized the truth.

Another thought, unbidden, came treacherously to the front of Remus’ mind.

_You have been head over heels for the bloke since we were fourteen and you haven't done a thing about it._

When he closed his eyes and tried to think of something, anything else, all he saw was Sirius smirking at him and making fun of his name. The way Remus’ stomach flip-flopped did nothing to make him feel better. Why couldn't he fancy a nice girl who liked ancient mythology and never poked fun at his abysmal Potions skills? He thought of Lily Evans with a resigned sigh. She was pretty, he guessed, and seemed nice enough. But he felt nothing when he tried imagining feelings for her, or any other girl in his year.

“ _Bugger_ ,” Remus swore into the dark. There was no way he’d be able to sleep now.

Sixth year was off to a great start.

\--

Morning came and Remus watched the sunrise, exhausted. The room was silent save for the sound of breathing and the occasional snore, and probably would be for some time still. No one stirred as Remus sat up in his bed and drew his knees to his chest, eyes fixed on the forest outside the window, searching for something he wasn’t sure of. The closer it came to the moon, the stronger his urge to be out _there_ was, something the wolf was never allowed. It ached for freedom and Remus pointedly stamped it down most days.

He thought about lying back down in bed and pulling the covers over his head to sleep, mind finally numb enough to allow it after a night of thinking and tugging him out of unconsciousness. But, it was only the second day of classes and the rule-abider in him would not allow it. He’d be missing enough class this term as it was.

The sun had continued its ascent in the sky and was above the treetops of the forest when the first sounds of waking pierced the silence. Elgin Froth, pale-headed and five inches shorter than the other boys in their year, sat up in his bed and rubbed at his eyes, mumbling under his breath something about a cup of tea. His hands dropped to his lap and his gaze fell on Remus, who was staring unabashedly from the other side of the room. The boy gave him a sleepy smile and then threw the covers aside. One by one, the other boys joined them in the waking world and began their morning routines. Still, Remus sat in his bed and turned his attention to the wilderness outside.

He didn’t wait for Kingsley before leaving for breakfast, nor did he even run a brush through his hair. The need to be outside was overwhelming and Remus couldn’t ignore it any longer, trudging through the empty halls with his tie unknotted around his neck, shirt untucked and laces untied. His legs moved of their own accord, simply taking him where he needed to be most.

Remus stepped through an archway and the cool autumn air kissed his face, carded through his bed-mussed hair. There was no one outside that he could see, the grounds abandoned like the hallways were, students still waking up and faculty enjoying the quiet hours in their own quarters. This was how Remus liked it out here. It reminded him of the woods near home.

The dew-covered grass dampened the hems of his pants as he strolled through the grounds but found that he didn’t really care, the breeze carrying him forward where he needed to be. It was at moments like this that Remus felt more connected to the earth, like it could sense what he was beneath the surface and beckoned the animal home, as hard as he fought it. He came up to the treeline and stopped, at the clear divide where green grass turned to dirt and pine needles, and toed off his shoes. The bag and his cloak followed, landing on the ground with a soft _thump._ Remus took a deep breath, felt the wolf do the same, and stepped into the forest.

\--

Remus didn't need a watch to know he had missed breakfast. Once he’d stumbled out of the forest, feet bare and caked in mud, he saw how few students were scattered across the grounds, and knew classes were just barely starting if they hadn’t already. He swallowed, golden-green eyes flicking left and right to make sure no one saw him breaking the rules so blatantly, and gathered his things in the dirt. He nearly stepped back into his shoes, but paused when he realized how dirty they were.

 _No,_ Remus thought, bending to pick up the loafers, _don’t want to ruin your only pair._ Magic would have easily cleaned them, but the guilt gnawing at Remus stilled his hand from reaching for his wand. He’d already broken the rules enough as it was that morning by venturing into the forest; he wouldn’t break another by using magic outside of class, even if it would save him a few minutes.

Confident no one noticed him, Remus swept across the grounds with shoes in hand, the grass cold and wet underfoot. He ached to stay outside, obey the breeze that caressed his face and the wolf that wanted to bathe in the sun the whole day, but crossed the threshold before he could give into the urge.

While the grounds were nearly deserted, the castle was thrumming with activity now, students clad in uniform trying to find their classrooms and congregating with friends before the bell would scatter them. Remus caught a few familiar faces, mostly from Ravenclaw, and offered stiff, awkward smiles. He ducked into the nearest boys’ bathroom to clean up before they could ask him what he was doing, barefoot and covered in mud.

The door swung shut behind him and Remus froze.

Severus Snape was at the sink, scrubbing at his face vigorously, faucet running. His profile was sharper than Remus had last seen it, cheeks gaunt and eyes looking more sunken in than they had on the train in June. He turned his gaze on Remus when he heard the door, and Remus noticed his red-rimmed eyes were bristling with hate at the sight of him. Remus had caught Snape crying in the boys’ toilet. Dread, heavy and cold, settled in his stomach. He remembered their second year, when Snape sat too close to Remus in class, and didn’t move quickly enough when his potion inevitably went wrong and exploded. Four of them were left sobbing uncontrollably for the rest of the day, until Professor Slughorn could brew an antidote, but Snape was the only one teased mercilessly for it. The Gryffindors still called him Snivellus to this day, and Remus didn’t think Snape would ever forgive him.

“What are you doing here?” Snape snarled, taking in Remus’ dirty feet, the shoes in his hands, the mud on his arms. “Get _out,_ you freak.”

Remus thought about what Kingsley would do if he were in Remus’ position, and he held his chin a little higher, jaw squaring. “It’s a public place. I can be here if I want,” he replied, an edge to his voice that he didn’t recognize.

Shoulders tensing, Snape turned to face him fully and his hands clenched into fists. Remus’ own hands held tighter to his shoes, like they could protect him if Snape decided to throw a punch or a cast a curse. “Get _out,_ ” Snape hissed again and Remus shook his head. The Slytherin’s nostrils flared, and he wiped at his face furiously with the backs of his hand. He reached for his wand. Remus dropped his shoes but didn’t reach for his own wand, eyes trained on Snape’s hands and heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Snape raised his arm, lips parted to no doubt curse him, but the door behind Remus opened before he could dart out of the way and Snape froze in place, eyes trained just over Remus’ shoulder.

“Well,” a familiar voice drawled, “if it isn’t _Snivellus,_ picking on poor, defenseless Ravenclaws. It looks like someone didn’t learn a thing this morning about respecting your betters.”

Closing his eyes, Remus took in a deep, nervous breath.

Snape snarled and Remus opened his eyes, tense in expectation of a hex that never came. Instead, the Slytherin stormed passed them both, shoving Remus with his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble right into the Gryffindor behind him. “ _Freak._ Tell anyone about this and you're dead,” Snape hissed, casting Sirius a parting glare before shoving the door open.

It swung shut with a heavy _thunk_ and Remus let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A cough made him turn around and the reality of Sirius Black standing directly behind him sunk in. He took a step backwards to relieve some of the pressure on his chest, not sure if he preferred Snape threatening hexes to this awkward, painful interaction.

Sirius was shorter than Remus by two or three inches, enough to be noticeable when they stood so close together, but he made Remus feel so small in comparison. His tie was loose around his neck and his shirt untucked on one side, with his wand held loosely at his side. Remus thought he must have spent an oddly disproportionate amount of time that morning on his hair compared to dressing, black locks mussed perfectly and kissing the tops of his shoulders in a way that any girl he knew would be jealous of. Remus felt oddly self conscious then of his own appearance, knowing he’d _actually_ stumbled out of bed like this, tawny hair sticking up in all directions.

“You’re welcome,” Sirius smirked, drawing Remus’ attention back to his face.

Remus blinked, distracted. “What?”

“I said you’re welcome.” Gaze flicking to Remus’ still-muddy feet and the abandoned shoes on the floor, his grin widened. “Morning stroll?”

“None of your business,” Remus bit back, face heating up at Sirius’ amused laughter. He turned without a word and stalked to the sinks where Snape had been just moments before, and fumbled with the tap until the water ran warm. When Remus looked back up, Sirius was still watching him, lips curved in a lopsided smile. Remus opened his mouth to say something clever and admonishing, but Sirius let out one last chuckle and then turned, leaving the way he came and erasing whatever clever thing Remus would have said from his head.

Remus stared after him, the running faucet forgotten, until the bell rung loud and high overhead, pulling him back to the present. Cursing, Remus rolled up his pants and went to work on cleaning the dried mud off his feet. He was going to be so late.

\--

“I’m in love, mate.”

“Sure, tell me something I didn't already know.”

“No, Sirius, I'm serious. I really am in love.”

“No, James, _I’m_ Sirius.”

James wasted no time in launching himself over the sofa to tackle Sirius to the ground, tired of jokes he’d heard since he was eleven and maybe a touch frustrated that his friend never seemed convinced of his admissions. They were of the same mind on a lot of things, but love was not one of them. As popular as he was with the ladies, Sirius was not what anyone would call a romantic.

“A whore,” Peter had once supplied.

Cackling, Sirius rolled over in an attempt to escape James’ grip and managed to wriggle away before he could get a good blow in. “Jamesy, you know I like it rough, but not in front of the _children!_ ” James grabbed at his hair and it only made Sirius laugh harder, soon breathless and limp on the moth-eaten rug with his best friend sitting astride his stomach in solemn victory.

“Shut up and listen to my woes, Sirius! I have a lot of them,” James whined.

“Of course, James,” Sirius huffed, winded and a little hoarse, “I'm sorry. Do continue.”

“Right. As I was saying, I am in love.”

Sirius grunted and James took this as permission to go on.

“Really in love. And Evans won't even give me a chance! She told me I needed to be more mature before she’d even consider going out with me, but I _am_ mature. I'm the most mature boy in our year!”

“Sure, you are.”

“ _Thank you,_ Sirius. But she doesn't think it's enough! She told me that mature people don't put dungbombs in faculty lounges or transfigure dirty Slytherins’ socks into crabs while they're still wearing them.”

The crab socks were _brilliant,_ Sirius thought. Snape had been in so much pain he’d cried in front of everyone in the hallway outside of Transfiguration. His only regret was not hexing him again, when he’d found him in the boys’ toilet, threatening Lupin.

“And what did you say to that, dear James?”

“I didn't say anything! She had a point.”

Looking up at him in abject horror, it dawned on Sirius what James was about to say, and he wanted to cry before the words even left his mouth:

“I think we should take a break from the pranks.”

“ _No!_ ” Sirius summoned every ounce of strength he had to sit up and toss James onto the rug beside him. This wasn’t the first time James had let Evans’ remarks get to him, but he’d never taken it this far. Sirius wanted to cry. “James, what have you let that little demon do to you? What do you mean, ‘a break from pranks’?”

Frowning, the other boy righted himself and dusted nonexistent dirt off his white linen shirt. “She's not a _demon,_ Pads, and she didn't do anything. She's right, you know.” James wrinkled his nose. “It isn't very mature to pull pranks.”

“Who gives a flying fuck if it's mature! _We’re_ not mature! We’ve never wanted to be!”

“Hey, you just said that I was!”

Sirius disregarded that statement with a quick wave of his hand, looking for someone else in the common room who might be able to talk some sense into James. It was their free period, just an hour before dinner, and the only other soul in the Gryffindor Common Room was Peter, but he was snoring loudly on the ragged sofa and nothing would wake him except the promise of food. Sirius was on his own on this one.

“I can't believe what I'm hearing, James. You? Giving up pranks? What happened to my little boy!”

Smacking him in the arm, James flashed Sirius a brilliant scowl and started to push himself up to his feet. Apparently he was too good for pranks, but not above making faces. “I’m still the same old James, mate, don't be dramatic. I'm just...an older, more mature version. James the Second, if you will.”

“Ugh, I'm gonna vomit,” Sirius groaned. “I have to get some air. I can't believe the hell my life has turned into.”

James rolled his eyes, but didn't make a fuss as Sirius hoisted himself up and began for the portrait door, casting his best friend a disappointed look. He said nothing, even as James made a point to catch his eye and stick out his tongue before he slipped outside. _Yeah, real mature._

The last two days had been fairly uneventful until then. Sirius went into his lessons with a modicum of enthusiasm, as was his custom, and spent the remainder of his time terrorizing first years and plotting the Next Big Prank of the term. All that planning was for nothing if James refused to play a part in it, though.

This was shaping up to be the most anticlimactic start to a term Sirius had ever had.

He wandered down to the ground floor, where he somehow always managed to find himself when he needed to have A Think, and collapsed on a stone bench in the courtyard as though he'd been walking for miles. It had rained earlier that day and the stone was still a little damp, but Sirius couldn't bring himself to care. He had more important things to worry about, like how he was going to cast a Confundus Charm on Evans the next time he saw her.

It couldn’t have been a surprise that Sirius would lose James to her eventually. He’d seen the way he caught her eye all those years ago on the Hogwarts Express, how his jaw had slackened and all semblance of coherency left him. They were only eleven, and what did any eleven-year-old know about love? But, James made the declaration right then and there that he would marry that girl someday, and Sirius, afraid he might lose the only interesting friend he’d made so far, only laughed at him a little for it.

Merlin, Evans hadn’t even given him a proper chance and James was already done for.

Contemplation had lulled Sirius into an uncharacteristic focus, and he saw the group of Slytherins entering the courtyard before he heard them. Out of instinct he stood and drew his wand, and the motion caught the attention of the greasy-haired git in the front. Snivellus elbowed the boy next to him when he met Sirius’ eye. Regulus looked terrified, gaze falling on his older brother and the wand in his hand.

Sirius couldn’t pretend he was surprised to see Regulus with them, after all that had happened that summer, but the betrayal stung nonetheless.

“Oi, fuckface, what’re you lookin’ at?” Nott called as the group approached.

“Your ugly mug, Nott. Did your mother fuck a troll?” Sirius retorted.

Nott snarled, the insult obviously not sitting well with him, and grabbed for his wand. His friends were quick to follow, even Regulus. Sirius barely gave them a chance to gather their wits, throwing a quick hex Nott’s way and ducking when they retaliated in kind. Snape’s magic was the only thing that got close enough to graze his arm, and Sirius didn't even think his brother was trying to hit him. Their hearts weren’t really in it, Sirius thought, and that just couldn’t do.

Before one of the Slytherins could land a proper blow, Sirius ducked behind a thorny bush, firing a Reducto Curse without a second thought. It was only thanks to Snape’s shove that Nott avoided it in time and let the stone statue of Herbert the Inglorious take the brunt of the curse for him, raining in pieces on the Slytherins’ heads.

“Are you _insane?_ ” Regulus screeched.

Sirius laughed, wondering if maybe he _was_ a touch insane. After all, his family could obliterate his name off the Family Tapestry, but they couldn’t erase the blood that ran through his veins.

“Come on, little brother, don’t pretend this is news to you,” Sirius countered, stepping out from behind the bush. He stood with his wand at the ready, crouched and waiting as the group slipped into stances that mirrored his own. He hadn't had a proper duel in months, and the Gryffindor felt a sense of relief wash over him, wondering if maybe his term was off to a more exciting start than he’d been prepared  to give it credit.

Another curse was on the tip of Sirius’ tongue, but Snape got there first. He made a great slashing motion with his arm and snarled a word Sirius had never heard before, eyes glittering with hate and the promise of revenge for what happened the day before. Sirius tried to move, but the white light hit him too quickly. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the wet ground, wand falling limp from his hand, The last thing he remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was the searing pain in his chest.

\--

Everything felt muffled and dark and Sirius didn't know where he was. He was vaguely aware of a floating sort of sensation, but each breath hurt, like lightning crackling in his lungs. Static, gentle and rumbling, filled his ears, but even beyond that he thought he heard voices somewhere far away but nearby all the same. They sounded upset, he thought, and clung to them, steadfast.

“Poppy, this isn't good.”

“Yes, Filius, _I know._ ”

He knew these voices.

“It's not usually this bad, is it?”

A sigh. “No, but everything I've read assures me this is normal. The older he gets, the worse it'll be. There simply isn't anything we can do.”

“Poor boy. Do you think it was this bad over the summer?”

“Perhaps. But he’ll be alright, Filius. Just needs a few days’ rest. Horace was kind enough to bring potions from his own stores should he need them.”

“That was kind, indeed.”

“It was,” Madam Pomfrey agreed. “I think the lad will be alright on his own for now. Would you like to help me pen a letter to his parents? They'll want to know how he’s doing.”

The grown ups fell quiet, their footsteps _tap-tapping_ across the floor to Madam Pomfrey’s office. Silence fell as soon as the door clicked shut.

Sirius pried his eyes open when the silence met his ears, blinded momentarily by the sunlight filtering through the foggy window. He groaned and it felt like sandpaper rubbing against his throat. _Merlin, what happened?_

When Sirius closed his eyes again, the pounding of his head abated only a fraction. _Fuck,_ it hurt. He tried to think back on what he could remember and what it was that landed him in the Hospital Wing, no stranger to this sort of thing after years of Quidditch and fighting. He vaguely remembered James’ admission of maturity and his walk downstairs, but what happened after that was fuzzy around the edges. If he thought hard enough, he remembered a flash of white light before everything went dark. Very gingerly, he opened his eyes again and took stock of the room around him, realizing the linen shirt of his uniform had been removed and replaced with a striped nightshirt. The bulk beneath it was a surprise, however, and in his curiosity and stupidity, Sirius poked at it.

“ _Bugger-_ ”

Sirius sucked in a deep breath. _Bandages._ Poking them was most definitely _not_ a smart idea. Once he managed to catch his breath and blink back the barrage of tears that threatened to spill, he looked down his nose again at the nightshirt. He gingerly worked at the buttons until he could reach the edge of a bandage, and took a steadying breath before he peeled it back. His head swam when he saw the ugly, torn skin beneath it. It was like he’d been slashed with a sword.

 _Oh_. He remembered the swinging arc of Snape’s wand and then pain blossoming across his chest. Everything went dark after that.

Sucking in deep breaths, Sirius buttoned the shirt back up and tried to calm the treacherous hammering of his heart, knowing that it was just a flesh wound, that he would heal just fine. He didn’t recognize the curse, but he’d seen enough dark magic to know it could have been worse, and that thought calmed him.

_You’ll be alright, don't be such a ninny._

Right. Sirius let out a gust of air and opened his eyes. He turned his head to look around, remembering the conversation he’d caught as he’d woken up, sure it hadn't been meant for his ears. By the sound of it, someone else was there and in worse shape than he was, which was pretty remarkable. There was a line of empty beds against the wall where he lay, but one bed in the corner of the room had its curtains drawn, and Sirius had been severely injured enough to know the partitions never bode well for its patient. He was a little hurt he hadn’t gotten his own curtains at this point.

Before he could attempt to push himself up and get a better look, Madam Pomfrey’s office door opened. Sirius quickly shut his eyes.

“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for him, Poppy. He is one of mine, after all,” he heard Professor Flitwick say as they walked past Sirius’ bed. He could barely remember what they'd said before, and he wondered if he'd hit his head on the way down too.

“I will, Filius. And tell me once you hear anything from his parents. Should they wish to visit, I would like to be prepared.”

Their footsteps and their voices were further away but Sirius could understand every word.

“Of course. Thank you, Poppy.”

He kept perfectly still as the door swung open and promptly shut, and the gentle _tap-tap-tap_ of Madam Pomfrey’s heels growing louder as she came near. The caregiver slowed down for just a moment as she passed by his bed, content that the boy was still asleep and resting, and then continued on to the partitioned corner. She pulled back the curtain and clipped it open, letting in enough sunlight for her to see by.

If he turned his head just enough, Sirius could see there was another student fast asleep in their hospital bed. It was difficult to get a good look from where he was at, but he felt a pang of recognition. Even with his face bloodied and torn, Sirius thought of golden eyes watching him across the Great Hall and felt his stomach sink.

He couldn't have been totally sure, but Remus Lupin looked like he had been mauled by a wild animal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally hit 10k and a hint of plot makes an appearance!
> 
> You are all wonderful, and thank you for all of the hits and kudos and subscriptions so far. I am so appreciative of everyone who's paid this fic any mind since it's started. I mean it when I say y'all keep me working on this thing.


	4. Scars

Everything was rough around the edges. There was an ache so deep, Remus wasn't sure where it started and where it ended, all-encompassing and making it hard to breathe. His skin itched like it was caught between shifting and the feeling was so familiar Remus didn’t question it.

There was a full moon, he shifted as he always did, and he survived.

Remus took a moment to breathe as deeply as his bruised lungs would allow and refused to open his eyes to the light of day just yet, knowing that when he did Madam Pomfrey would descend. She would be furious in that quiet way of hers, not at him, but at his situation, and she would inquire how he was feeling, if he remembered anything. She would want to know if his shifts had been this bad before he returned to school, and Remus didn’t know what to tell her. They grew more violent and more painful with each passing moon, but more so lately, now that he was having growth spurts and his physiology was changing. He could never recall the transformations except for those few, terrifying moments in the beginning, when he could hear the blood rushing in his ears and his skin ripple with the promise of change. Madam Pomfrey would be upset with him for not telling her sooner.

“Mr. Lupin? Are you awake?”

His time of peace was up. Remus groaned in response, and that seemed good enough for Madam Pomfrey. Pressing her hand to his forehead, the caregiver clucked disapprovingly at what she felt there and disappeared for just a moment to fetch a damp cloth. Remus finally opened his eyes when the cool rag touched his skin.

“You’ve been running a fever,” Madam Pomfrey explained. “The potions haven’t done much for you, I’m afraid, but we’re doing what we can. How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” Remus croaked.

She frowned - Remus was a shit liar - but didn’t protest, instead pulling her wand from the apron tied about her waist and set to casting her spells. The image was disturbingly familiar, and Remus wondered if any of his classmates were as used to this as he was.

A few silent minutes passed as she ran her tests and checked his pulse and his breathing, and blessedly did not make Remus talk throughout it all, allowing him to rest. He wanted to ask if Kingsley had been by before his first lesson, or even what time it was, but his throat was dry and the silence was peaceful. Finally, Madam Pomfrey stowed her wand away without flourish and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Aside from your fever, everything else has been caught and managed,” she explained with that soft, sad smile of hers. “The transformations are getting worse, though. Have you noticed?”

Remus hesitated to answer for a moment too long, and his silence was all Madam Pomfrey needed to know that it hadn’t slipped by him. She sighed. “I know you do not like to talk about what-” a pause as she collected her words, “what _this_ does to you, but it is important for us to know how the shifts are affecting you. You are getting old enough that this could bring lasting damage, if we do not catch it in time.”

Remus nodded the best he could, wincing when a muscle twitched uncomfortably at the movement, and let her finish the physical examination in silence. When she had finished checking the new scars littered across his arms and chest, he asked hoarsely, “Is it still morning?”

“It’s nearly three in the afternoon,” Madam Pomfrey replied. “Mr. Shacklebolt has already been by to see you twice. I imagine he will come for another visit after his lessons end.”

Relief washed over him at the news. He hated people seeing him like this but he didn’t want to be alone either.

“Try not to move too much,” Madam Pomfrey said as she stepped back from his bedside. “I have another patient to check on, but I will come back later to see how you feel. Sleep, if you can.”

Remus hummed in the affirmative and the caregiver gave him one last look before disappearing beyond the thick curtains pulled around his bed. It was no difficult task to succumb to the bone-deep weariness he knew he’d feel for days.

\--

True to form, Kingsley appeared at his bedside a few short hours later, having come directly after class and still in his full uniform. He had just set his bag down beside the chair in Remus’ makeshift private quarters and slid into the seat when thunder rattled the window above Remus’ bed, crackling with malicious glee as a storm rolled through the Scottish countryside. Oblivious to the other presence in the room, Remus sleepily reached for the pillow under his head and covered his face with it.

“Oi, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a bit of rain,” Kingsley laughed, prying the pillow out of his grip.

Remus blinked blearily up at him, the cogs of his brain working to determine if this was reality or a dream. When he was satisfied the boy sitting beside him was flesh and blood and not some figment of his imagination, Remus smiled. “‘Ello, Kings.”

“Hi, Remus. You get enough sleep?” Kingsley leaned forward so his elbows rested atop his knees and something in his expression softened when he finally got close enough to get a good look at his friend’s face.

“No,” Remus replied. Kingsley looked like he was about to ask him how he was feeling - which Remus thought should have been obvious - and Remus beat him to it as quickly as he could. “I feel like shit, if you want to know. Now, out with it. How bad do I look? You have the same weird look on your face that Pomfrey did.”

Pursing his lips, Kingsley reached for an empty potion vial that had been left on the nightstand and went to work transfiguring it into a small mirror. “It’s not...great. You just need a leather jacket though, and you’ll have the whole bad boy look down pat.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Can I see it?”

“I’m sure it’s just irritated from all of Madam Pomfrey’s prodding. Give it a few hours and it’ll not be so-”

“Kings, you’re a wonderful friend and I appreciate you wanting to spare my feelings, but I want to see.”

Warily, Kingsley held up the mirror and angled it so Remus could inspect the damage. His stomach sunk.

The most obvious mark was a long, deep gash running from Remus’ left temple and down his cheek until it kissed the corner of his mouth, skin still raised where the claw had dug in deepest. He thought that Madam Pomfrey must have set to healing it first because it was already scabbing where it narrowly missed his eye and the bruising around it was faded to a sickly yellow. There were smaller lines running parallel to it, but they didn’t look deep enough to scar. A small mercy, at least.

Another scratch, more likely to leave a permanent mark, sliced across the bridge of his nose. A deep, red line bisected an eyebrow, which made him wonder if the hair would ever grow back in that small spot. Overall, he looked like he’d been mauled by a bear.

It wasn't too far from the truth.

Kingsley lowered the mirror and gave Remus’ shoulder a gentle squeeze, bringing him out of his stupor. “You look very rough-and-tumble,” he said with his serious expression unchanged. “Very Alice Cooper-like.”

That made Remus laugh, which was enough to make Kingsley laugh, and soon enough Remus felt better about the scars.

“I’m sorry for being a prat about that. You were right, it _is_ bad and I wish I hadn’t looked.”

“You’re always a prat, so I don’t mind.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “Did anyone ask after me?”

“I’m afraid not. I know how much you like to be the center of attention, but you were upstaged. There was a pretty nasty duel in the courtyard yesterday afternoon, right after you’d gone to the Shrieking Shack,” the other boy informed him. He was so nonchalant about it that Remus might have thought he was commenting on the dreadful weather.

“A duel?”

“It was really bloody, apparently. Four on one, I heard, and they didn’t fight fair. I didn’t actually see any of it, but there were rumors ‘round the whole school by supper that someone had nearly died.”

Remus thought about what Madam Pomfrey said regarding another patient, and he wondered aloud, “Is that who’s out there? Someone involved in the fight?”

“I think so. There’s a curtain pulled up around the bed, so you can’t see whoever’s inside.”

“Are you a Ravenclaw, or aren’t you? Who else was absent from lessons today?”

Kingsley shrugged, pursing his lips to stop a smirk from tugging at his lips. “I already thought about that, but Professors McGonagall and Slughorn pulled every sixth year in their houses out of lessons to try and figure out what happened, so there’s no telling who was attacked. And, no one knows what curse was used or who did it except that it was someone in Slytherin. Everyone is talking about it.”

Before they could get into what else Remus had missed that day, Madam Pomfrey was bustling through the curtains to shoo Kingsley off to supper while she did another check on Remus’ injuries. If he was lucky, he'd be released in the morning and life could resume its semblance of normalcy until the next full moon.

“See you tomorrow, mate. Try not to die of boredom.” Grinning, Kingsley gave him a wave and parted the barrier between his hospital bed and the rest of the world. Beyond him, Remus could see the curtains a few beds down and felt a pang of sympathy for whoever was inside.

“Alright, dear, sit up for me. We need to check your breathing,” Madam Pomfrey pulled him out of his reverie and helped him lean forward. He complied, bones popping and muscles straining as he straightened his spine, and followed her gentle instruction to breathe in, and breathe out.

\--

The first time Remus woke up in the Hospital Wing after a full moon, he had been convinced they were going to throw him out of Hogwarts the moment he was able to stand. Professor Dumbledore would descend upon his bed and inform him that he had made a grave error in judgment, and it was too dangerous for a werewolf to remain anywhere near the school premises, after all. He would be escorted by the wizened Headmaster and Mr. Filch to his dorm room, where he would be forced to pack every belonging he had aside from his school uniform and books, and then he would be sent on the Hogwarts Express back to London. His wand would be snapped in two by Ministry officials who met him at Kings Cross Station, and then he would be taken to an experimental facility where he would spend the rest of his days being poked and prodded by magic and Muggle science.

It was a great relief, then, when he found Professor Dumbledore observing him from the chair beside his bed, smiling serenely as Remus’ eyes began to focus. “Good morning, Mr. Lupin. Chocolate?” The Headmaster held a small bar of the stuff out for him to take - no threats of expulsion on his lips, only a twinkle in his eye that reminded Remus of the fairy lights his mother hung around his room to keep away the nightmares when he was young - and Remus promptly burst into tears of relief.

Each morning after a full moon for the next two years, Remus woke much of the same way, with Dumbledore at his bedside and offering bits of chocolate before Madam Pomfrey caught him and shooed him away with lectures about the dangers of sweets in the morning. The old man never did stay long, but his eyes would crinkle in the corners as Madam Pomfrey berated him in that exasperated, but fond way of hers, and he would give Remus a bow before acquiescing to the caregiver’s demands. Remus always wondered why he didn’t just stay - it was _his_ school after all, and he could stay if he wanted to - but eventually Remus stopped questioning it and just felt grateful that he wasn’t alone in those first, panicked moments of wakefulness.

Dumbledore only stopped coming to see him in the Hospital Wing every month when Remus finally told his best friend his horrible secret. It had been the Headmaster’s idea to tell him, actually, and looking back Remus wished he would have trusted the other Ravenclaw sooner.

“So that’s where you go off to every month? Your mum isn’t sick?” Kingsley asked, brows furrowed together in serious consideration.

“Yes,” Remus answered. He fidgeted with the threadbare hem of his sweatshirt. His father had once told him that the wolf could sense things about people that ordinary witches and wizards couldn’t, that it could sense the good and the bad in people and sometimes how others were feeling, but Remus couldn’t read his friend at all in this moment. Kingsley looked constipated, and that was a difficult face to discern in terms of emotion. Remus was going to start panicking if he didn’t say something soon.

After an agonizing moment of silence, Kingsley clasped both hands over Remus’ shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “Don’t lie to me ever again,” he stressed with as much seriousness as he could muster for a thirteen-year-old. “We’re best mates, and best mates don’t keep secrets from each other. So don’t lie to me anymore, alright?”

Remus couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he nodded dazedly all the same. “So, you’re okay? With this? With me?”

Kingsley frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. This isn’t going to change that.” The same relief he’d felt when he was eleven and scared and just grateful for a place that wanted him washed over Remus in that moment, and he cried into Kingsley’s shoulder for a good couple of minutes.

From then on, Kingsley had taken Professor Dumbledore’s seat whenever he was able, only barred from coming when he had lessons or Prefect duties later on. Professor Dumbledore did not visit nearly as often after that, much to Remus’ disappointment, but sometimes he did find bars of finely packaged chocolate sitting on the nightstand beside his bed, and Madam Pomfrey had a funny, knowing look in her eye whenever she looked at it.

Remus had grown so used to not seeing the Headmaster at his bedside anymore, that when he woke up early Saturday morning to find the man watching him, he nearly fell off the edge of the mattress.

“Professor!”

“I must apologize, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I did not mean to frighten you. I’m afraid my bedside manner is rather lacking.”

Pushing himself up by the elbows, Remus tried very hard to act like he wasn’t wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth and that he wasn’t extremely red in the face from the way he’d screeched in fright at the sight of him. “Professor, what are you doing here?” The words tumbled from his mouth before Remus could catch them, and he quickly fumbled, “Not that I’m ungrateful to see you, because it’s always a pleasure, really, but-”

The Headmaster held up a hand, which promptly shut Remus right up, and he finished the thought, “But I haven’t come to see you after a transformation in a while. I know, Mr. Lupin, and I am terribly sorry for that. I do hope you aren’t too upset with me. I would understand entirely if you were, however.”

Remus shook his head. “No, sir. I understand you’re busy.”

The smile that Dumbledore gave him was a sad one, tainted with something Remus couldn’t name, and he slid a bar of chocolate towards his student as if Remus were eleven-years-old again and in desperate need of an act of kindness. “You are too kind to a foolish, old man like me, Mr. Lupin. But, I digress. I did not come here to talk about myself.”

“What did you come to talk about, sir?”

He heaved a heavy, put upon sigh. “I came to talk about something which pertains to you and others like you. It is not something I wished to do, but I’ve found it necessary after much contemplation.”

Dread settled in Remus’ stomach. “You mean werewolves, sir,” he supplied quietly, unsure if Madam Pomfrey’s other patient was still somewhere beyond the partitions and within earshot.

“Yes, Mr. Lupin. I imagine you know of Lord Voldemort?”

Furrowing his brow, Remus thought back on the articles in the paper when everything first started, and how his mother had gone pale when she first read them. His father had assured them both it was probably nothing but another Pureblood egomaniac with too much time on his hands, but he’d caught the way his father cast nervous glances whenever his mum prepared to leave the house alone. That had been four years ago, and the stories had only gotten worse. He thought back to that summer and the picture of a smoldering house on the cover of _The Daily Prophet_ one morning _,_ a grotesque symbol in smoke churning above it. “What does that have to do with me, Professor?” he finally asked, unsure where this conversation was meant to be going and worried it had something to do with his Muggle mother.

“Lord Voldemort has amassed a bigger following than most realize, I believe. There are many Pureblood families that have aligned themselves with him, unaware of the real danger he poses to the Wizarding Community.” The old man paused, looking more tired and weary than Remus had seen him. “And he’s begun recruiting werewolves, as well.”

Remus’ mouth went dry. “Werewolves, sir?”

“Yes. He has used their hatred for wizards to his advantage and promised to exact revenge on the government that threw them out. Many have decided to follow him in hopes that he will keep that promise.”

“And will he?”

“I do not know, my dear boy. But I do not wish to bog you down with the details of a war you are still too young to fight. I only came to implore you to exercise caution, and to remember what I have said if someone should try to sway you to his side. I fear some of your classmates have already sworn their loyalty to Lord Voldemort, and they will try and recruit others.”

Remus thought about what Kingsley had told him the night before, about an uneven duel and a Slytherin nearly killing someone with a curse no one recognized. He shivered. It didn’t take a genius to put it together, why Dumbledore was bringing this up now. “O-of course, sir. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Be careful of what, Remus wasn’t entirely sure, but he would keep his promise.

“You have made an old man glad, Mr. Lupin,” the Headmaster professed. He rose with a bow of his head, his sparkling indigo robes swishing about his feet and reminding Remus very much of the glinting night sky. “Now, I must be going before Madam Pomfrey finds me here and scolds me for disturbing your rest. Have a good day, Mr. Lupin, and remember your promise.”

“Thank you for coming to see me, sir. And for the chocolate,” Remus called after him as Dumbledore took his leave. When he was certain he was alone once more, the boy sunk into the mattress and pulled the covers over his head.

He only emerged from linen-soft safety when Madam Pomfrey’s voice shook him out of his half-awake daze, demanding to know where the chocolate sitting on the edge of his bed had come from, as though she didn’t already know.

\--

“Wotcher, mate. You feeling alright? Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let us come in any sooner, that great hag,” James sounded as put upon as he looked as he plopped down on the edge of Sirius’ hospital bed. He came by himself, claiming Peter was off trying to woo Marlene McKinnon, and wasn’t that just a great display of friendship, he huffed, leaving James to visit their mortally wounded friend alone?

Sirius swatted James’ hand like he was a misbehaving child. “Don’t call her a hag, James. She’s been kind enough to not to poison us all these years, and I believe it when she threatens she could.”

“Alright, then. Fine.” Pouting, James ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair and his gaze settled on the bulge of bandages beneath Sirius’ nightshirt. “But, you have to admit that it’s unfair you’ve been under lock and key when you were the one hurt. Snivellus is still walking around a free man! Bloody bat ought to have been thrown in Azkaban for nearly killing you!” The bed practically shook with James’ righteous fury.

“Trust me, James, I agree! Snivellus should have been thrown into Azkaban eons ago, but I’m on too many Pain Potions to really care right now. You’ll have to be angry enough for the both of us until I’m well enough to get worked into a proper tantrum.”

Resolutely, James nodded and swore he would harbor enough anger for an army until revenge could be exacted. “And then it’ll only be enough anger for a small punk band.”

“I don’t expect any less.” Sirius was also ridiculously glad that one good thing had come from this whole affair, and that was that James had forgotten his promise to lay off pranks. He imagined that Snape was in store for a pretty nasty one with the way his friend’s eyes glinted maliciously each time he was mentioned.

“So, who’s the poor wanker in the other bed?” James asked, jabbing a thumb towards the far corner of the Hospital Wing.

Sirius thought back to the marred and bloodied face he’d caught sight of, before Madam Pomfrey thought to put curtains up around his bed later that morning as curious students tried sticking their noses into the infirmary. Where Sirius would normally have no problem divulging what he’d seen to his best mate, probably even exaggerate in sick detail the extent of the other boy’s injuries just to see James’ face pale, he hesitated now. Something in him told Sirius that this was not his secret to tell, and if James didn’t already know then he wouldn’t say anything. “No clue,” Sirius lied. “Came in while I was passed out sometime.”

“Shame,” James sighed. “I was hoping it was a Slytherin.”


	5. Kneazles

True to her word, Madam Pomfrey released Remus from medical observation later that afternoon. The curtains that had been drawn around the only other occupied bed in the Hospital Wing that weekend were taken down by the time Remus emerged from his own, and curiosity prickled as he fought the urge to ask who had been inside. Had he not  _ known _ there was someone else in that room, just mere meters away the whole time he recovered, he would have believed he was alone.

Madam Pomfrey said his name and that pulled Remus from his reverie, pushing his questions to the side. He was sure he’d find out who it was eventually, anyways. Information had a way of circulating quickly around Hogwarts.

“Remember to come see me if you start feeling the least bit poorly,” Madam Pomfrey said as she led him to the door. “I don’t care if you so much as sneeze - you will come by, alright?”

Nodding, Remus tried giving a placating smile but it just made her frown. “Of course, Madam Pomfrey. I’ll come straight away.”

“Good,” she quipped. “Now, off with you. Try to get some rest.”

Remus didn’t think she would respond too kindly if he reminded her that all he had done the last two days was rest, so instead he gave a feeble wave and started in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower, hoping to avoid most people on the trek through the castle. For all the time he’d had to think, he still hadn’t come up with a good excuse for his obvious injuries. These would be much harder to hide, and he didn’t think people would believe him if he said his mother’s cat attacked him.

It seemed, for just a moment, that Remus would experience a miracle and reach his dormitory without incident, and his silly excuse would have time to marinate in plausibility and mature into something he could use. But, because the universe loved to have a laugh at him, Remus was not so lucky. A pair of second-years rounded a corner as he was coming upon the spiral staircase and they nearly toppled over one another, gawking horribly at his face. He pretended not to notice, bowing his head and stepping aside to let them pass. With a gnawing dread in his stomach, he watched as they hurried away, whispering furiously to each other when they thought he was out of earshot.

Remus sighed. He felt his excuse die as their voices faded down the corridor.

He trudged up the spiral staircase, feeling more than a little dejected, and grumbled his way through the riddled door, into the common room. It was quiet, most of Ravenclaw Tower’s inhabitants either outside enjoying the respite from dreary weather or tackling the first week’s schoolwork in the small  library that abutted the circular room. Blessedly, the few students who remained inside were preoccupied with their friends or their books, and Remus was able to cross the starry carpet without too much fuss. Pandora Inglebee gave him an odd look, but said nothing. No one else seemed to notice the boy as he hurried through the room with his head bent low and Remus thanked whatever deity was listening for that.

Since that first time Kingsley had been to visit, Remus hadn’t seen his own face. He knew it had probably healed some in the twenty four hours since, but he couldn’t imagine it looked much better, only a touch less red and angry and still puckered along the edges, as the worser scars normally looked. Madam Pomfrey had always done her best to heal them, but once the wolf made its mark, there was no hope of it going away.

Remus was lost in thought as he made his way past the statue of his House’s namesake and up the stairwell to the boys’ dormitories, ignoring the stares of the portraits that lined the narrow walls and instinctively hopping over the squeaky step at the foot of his door. When he twisted the doorknob and pushed at it to open, he jumped when he saw Kingsley sitting on the edge of Remus’ bed, staring straight at him as though he heard him coming up.

“Kings, hello,” Remus schooled his voice to not betray his surprise but Kingsley’s laugh proved he didn’t do a very good job at it.

The taller boy gave him a faint, apologetic smile. “Sorry, Remus. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Shutting the door behind him, Remus returned his friend’s smile for a shaky one of his own and approached his bed, Kingsley twisting to face him as he passed by. Remus sat opposite of him and sighed. “It’s alright. I should have known you’d be in here. You never do anything fun,” he teased.

“Oh, toss off, Lupin,” Kingsley retorted without bite, falling back on the mattress and folding his hands over his heart. “You figure out what you’re going to tell people yet?”

Remus leaned back against his pillows, thinking his best friend knew him a little too well if he could guess what was on his mind so easily. “No. How on earth am I supposed to explain this?” he asked and pointed at the worst of his scars. “No one will believe me if I tell them my mum’s cat got at me.”

“That’s a shite excuse,” Kingsley agreed.

“The only thing that makes sense is the truth, and I can’t tell them that, can I?” Remus hated how petulant his voice sounded to his own ears. “Is it still pretty bad? I haven’t looked at it since yesterday.”

Kingsley turned his head to look at him and frowned, which didn’t fill Remus with very much confidence. He studied Remus’ face for a long moment before he sighed and pushed himself up to his elbows as though to get a better look. “It’s not good. You can see where the other claws got you better today, now that the big cut isn’t so ugly.”

“Merlin, there are more?” Remus sprung from the bed and all but crashed into the desk beside it, flinging open one of the drawers and rummaging through broken quills and scribbled-on pieces of parchment until he found a small mirror. He turned into the light to get a better look and gazed at his reflection, heart dropping at what he saw. The marks were far less angry, that was for certain, but they no longer stole attention away from the softer, shallower marks that lay parallel to the main attraction. Those hadn’t faded away completely, like he hoped they would.

He could make out where a paw had come down on his cheek and claws caught on skin, and he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. There was no way it didn’t look like he’d been mauled by an animal now. “Fuck me,” he groaned under his breath, stowing the mirror beneath a pile of old notes and pushing the drawer shut.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kingsley began, still watching him from his post on the bed, “you look properly rugged now.”

“I don’t want to look properly rugged!” Remus cried, “I want to look like I haven’t just been mauled by a bear!”

Kingsley sat up straight and flashed him a crooked smile, saying, “It’s very dashing. I bet the ladies will swarm.”

Groaning, Remus collapsed face first onto his bed beside his best friend, no closer to figuring out what story he would peddle when the next day came and feeling more frustrated than he had before. The only thing that brought him the least bit of comfort was Kingsley patting his back and assuring him, “I’ll keep the ladies off of you, mate, don’t worry. They like me better anyways.”

That did make him laugh.

\--

The next morning, Kingsley waited for Remus in the dormitory as he dragged his feet to get ready for the day, silencing any excuses Remus might have made to stay in bed. Remus already had a chance to try out his poor explanation on their three other roommates the night before when they’d trickled in, so he felt marginally better about facing the world. It hadn’t been  _ horrible. _

Thomas Hilliard, who rarely spent more time than necessary in their dorm, accepted it with a skeptical look but didn’t poke holes in Remus’ story when he was done, and Remus wasn’t even sure Elgin heard the excuse, so fixated on the scars was the boy. They were used to their roommate’s odd disappearances and if they suspected anything, they never let on - for which Remus was grateful - but the fifth boy, Dirk Cresswell, wasn’t as easily convinced. He’d been the one Remus was most worried about convincing.

“Your mum’s cat did this?” the brunette asked incredulously, stepping into Remus’ personal space to study the claw marks further.

Instinctively, Remus took a step back. “Erm, her kneazle, actually,” he corrected him. After a long back and forth on what household pet posed the most danger and could possibly be the culprit of Remus’ mutilation, a kneazle had somehow seemed most plausible. Kingsley’s older sister had one and the thing was a menace, Kingsley was adamant. Remus was starting to wish he’d fought back against Kingsley a little harder on that one.

Dirk’s eyes narrowed and he examined the injuries in silence for a few more heart-stopping moments before seemingly finding what he was looking for. He leaned back a respectable distance and gave Remus a shrug. “Kneazles are a pain in the arse, I’ve heard. Sorry about your face. You look bloody awful.”

With a hand on his shoulder, Kingsley kept Remus from saying something spitting in return, possibly apologizing for Dirk’s horrific haircut or his grating attempts at learning Gobbledegook in the dorm late at night, and turned him back to the corner of the room. Once Remus had had time to calm down, he was able to consider the interaction a success, and he didn’t dread the next day so much.

Now, though, as he and Kingsley made their way down from Ravenclaw Tower and towards the Great Hall, Remus was starting to wish he’d stayed in bed. Not too many students caught sight of him as they walked through the corridors, but once they found their way to breakfast and took their customary seats at their House table, people around them started to take notice.

“Great, just great,” Remus breathed, keeping his head down as he buttered a muffin. “It’s begun.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not too bad,” Kingsley tried to console him. It only made Remus glance up long enough to glare, as if Kingsley wasn’t one of the most dramatic people he knew. “Alright, fine. People are starting to catch on. But it could be worse; you could be Sirius Black.”

Remus perked up, muffin forgotten and lowering his knife. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Merlin, I forgot to tell you,” the other boy began, all nonchalance and ignorance to his friend’s obvious change in attitude. “Black was the one involved in that fight I told you about. He was in the Hospital Wing just a few meters away from you the whole time. Imagine that?”

In just a moment, Remus’ face fell again and he looked ready to crawl underneath the table and hide until the Great Hall was empty. “R-really? You don’t think he saw anything, do you?”

Kingsley froze, hand stilling as he had been reaching for an apple. He stared past Remus’ shoulder at the wall, the gears of his mind cranking, before turning his gaze on Remus and straightening in his seat. He’d obviously just meant to tease his friend, and now he was having a momentary crisis. “I don’t think so?”

“You don’t  _ think  _ so?”

Hands splayed in front of him, Kingsley huffed, “I’m sure you were fine, Remus, don’t worry. All I’m saying is that you won’t be the center of attention this week. Black came out of the Hospital Wing and started blabbing all over the school what happened. Everyone will be far more interested in that.”

Remus wasn’t so confident, but Kingsley was certain the shock upon seeing him would wear off quickly enough and their classmates would be more interested in the bloody duel that took place the week before, especially now that they had a hero and villain to fixate on. Soon after, Pandora Inglebee sat down beside them and pretended, again, not to notice there was anything wrong with Remus. She was even kind enough to ask after his mother, and Remus scrambled over himself to assure her his mother was doing as well as expected in her fictitious condition.

“I’m glad to hear she’s doing well,” the girl confessed, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “She’s been sick for some time, hasn’t she?”

Nodding, Remus felt himself relax. Pandora took to buttering her toast and asked about their summers, as though this was totally normal for them, and for a moment Remus deluded himself into thinking the day would pass without incident. It could be a normal morning and he could be a normal student, just trying to remain invisible and not draw any more attention to himself than necessary. But, as life had made itself abundantly clear, nothing ever went the way Remus would have liked and he was stripped of his naive hope before the first lesson of the day even started.

The three Ravenclaws were beginning to gather their things to leave when Remus felt someone’s presence at his back. Still sensitive from the shift, the wolf could sense who it was before he even opened his mouth to speak, and Remus wished the ground would swallow him up. “Lupin, what happened to you? You look even uglier than usual.”

Remus turned around to face Snape slowly. With arms crossed over his chest and lips pulled back in a disgusted snarl, Remus knew this was Snape’s way to take revenge for what happened the week before. He had probably thought about a way to get back at Remus since that morning, when Sirius interrupted whatever curse Snape had for him and he’d run away with his tail between his legs. Remus heard later about the crab socks - he might have felt pity for the boy had he not tried to hex Remus in the loo.

“Piss off, Snape,” swore Kingsley, shaking Remus out of his stupor. “Like you’re one to talk.”

Snape’s thin lips pulled back in a snarl. “No need to be so touchy, Shacklebolt. I was just curious. He looks like something feral got at him.”

By this time, the interaction had garnered some attention and the students sitting around them were swiveling in their seats to see what was the matter. Some looked hopeful for a fight, which wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility, considering the murderous look in Kingsley’s eye, and others were just curious as to what the racket was all about. In that moment, any hopes for invisibility were dashed.

“I think you ought to leave,” Kingsley retorted, standing from his place on the other side of the table and looking ready to reach over and grab Snape by the collar. Snape eyed him warily, the decision to run away or fight warring across his features. Kingsley hadn’t made any threats, but Snape didn’t seem eager to test it. He had done his damage, anyways. He’d embarrassed Remus the same way Remus unwittingly embarrassed him.

“I was just passing by, anyways,” Snape hissed before making a face at Remus and stalking off towards the exit. By the time he was far enough for Remus to relax, he noticed that there were still plenty of eyes on their table. If it wouldn’t just attract more attention, he might have stomped off as well.

Slowly, Kingsley sunk back onto the bench and took a steadying breath, eyes still trained in the direction Snape had walked off in. It wasn’t the most explosive interaction Snape had had with them over the years, but it was still enough to leave Kingsley angry and Remus unsettled. He knew that Snape had done it on purpose. It probably wouldn’t be the last of this mess, either.

Pandora reached over to pat the top of Remus’ hand and he remembered that he wasn’t sitting there alone. “That was extraordinarily rude. I’m sorry that happened,” she said, and Remus blinked at her. He wasn’t entirely sure why this girl decided to take pity on him that morning, but he wasn’t going to question it. It made the lingering stares on his back feel a touch less suffocating.

\--

Word traveled around the school quickly that Remus Lupin had been attacked by a wild animal, thanks to the ridiculous display that morning. It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t really false either, so Remus kept his mouth shut and tried his best to fade into the background when he could. It made it impossible to focus during lessons when he felt eyes raking over every detail of his face, drawing their own conclusions or confirming whatever outrageous lie they’d heard from the person sitting beside them.

Remus knew it was the mystery of it all that intrigued his classmates, and he couldn’t blame them for that, not really. He was a nobody one day and then he showed up the next with evidence of something dangerous and exciting etched on his face. They saw him and their imaginations ran wild, still excited from the duel that occurred a few days before that first interrupted the mundanity of coursework.

All the attention made Remus uncomfortable. At times, it didn’t feel like innocent and curious staring; it felt predatory, like someone was watching him with the intent of unraveling him and seeing what lay beyond, seeing what made him up on the inside. It felt like someone knew there was something he didn’t want anyone else to know and they were looking for anything that would give it away. Remus was scared he was just paranoid, that he was anxious because this was the closest the wolf had ever scratched to the surface of his daily life, but no matter how much he tried placating himself, the feeling stubbornly refused to go away.

He thought about what Professor Dumbledore had said, that there were dark wizards and witches who wanted to take advantage of people like him. How much would he have had to suffer and been deprived of to follow someone who could kill and terrorize so easily, all for the promise of belonging? He couldn’t imagine it. But, even still, he thought about the Headmaster’s warning constantly, about his fears that the school had already been infiltrated by those not much different than him on the surface, and he thought about it most when he felt his classmate’s eyes on him. After years of watching quietly from the sidelines, it was ironic that the tables had turned and now Remus was the one in the spotlight.

A couple days had passed since Snape made Remus’ disfigurement known to the entire school, and he had retreated to the library during supper to hide and make progress in his Arithmancy homework. He thought that, with time, the interest in him would wane and his scars would become commonplace, but he still thought people were watching him and the feeling made his skin itch. The library was one of the only safe places in the school from his paranoia, and so he had been spending even more time in there than usual to take a breath and complete his schoolwork in solitude.

He was attempting to focus on the number charts unfolded and laid out in front of him, quill poised over parchment, when someone drew the chair out from the table he sat at and slid into it. Thinking it was Kingsley or even his newfound friend, Pandora, Remus glanced up to say hello, but the greeting caught in his throat.

“Hello, Lupin.” Sirius smirked at him from across the table. Remus hated himself for how his heart skipped a beat at the sight of it, eyes tracing the curve of his mouth. Oblivious, Sirius pushed an unruly lock of hair from his face and then leaned conspiratorially forward. “How are you faring?”

_ This couldn’t possibly be real. _

Remus’ hand slackened and the quill fell from his grip, ink smattering across the parchment. He’d be rightfully angry over that when he noticed it a few minutes later. But, for now, he was smacked with disbelief and fought hard against the blush that crept up his neck. For the first time in days, he felt like a normal teenager, just trying not to make an ass of himself in front of someone he fancied. He should have felt glad, relieved, to finally feel so normal, but felt nothing but mortification instead. “Hi. I’m, uh, fine, thanks?”

Brow raised, Sirius leaned back in his seat. “Are you sure? You don’t sound it.”

Remus scowled. “I’m sure. What do you want?”

Dimpling with another smile, Sirius ran his fingers through the fringe hanging in front of his eyes and fixed Remus with an intensity that had his heart racing. He leaned forward to pluck the disused quill from Remus’ hand, and the intensity of Remus’ blush grew hotter. “What I want, is to help,” Sirius began. “I’ve heard you’ve had a rough go of it. I feel like I might be a little at fault.”

It didn’t make sense, what Sirius was saying. Remus shook his head, meeting the other boy’s eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do. You’re shit at lying, you know that?” As if Remus could still be uncertain what he was speaking to, Sirius pointed the feather-end of the quill at his face. “Honestly, a kneazle? You could have done better.”

The Gryffindor was right; Remus  _ was _ shit at lying. Remus knew this and would have willingly admitted it, but Sirius was being infuriating, and the way he was peering down his nose at him made Remus want to disappear. Struggling to keep his voice from shaking, Remus replied, “It's no one’s business what happened.”

“Of course it isn't,” Sirius laughed, “but no one cares about that, do they? All they care about is solving the mystery. It doesn't matter that it isn’t their business.” A look of disgust overcame Sirius’ features. “Snivellus certainly didn’t help anything.”

“Is that why you're here? Do you feel guilty about what happened in the loo? Or are you trying to solve the mystery first?” Remus felt his heart start to race and the overwhelming urge to run came over him. This was going too far. This boy was getting too close. It had been easy to fancy him when he was far away and unattainable, decidedly infuriating but ultimately beautiful, a paragon of everything Remus wasn't. It had been a farce, a dream; something he could agonize over until he graduated and moved on, and laughed about when he was older. Everyone had crushes, and nearly all of them amounted to nothing, Remus thought. Why would this be any different?

But with the way Sirius’ eyes softened just a tiny bit and his smirk lost some of its edge, Remus wondered if his silly fancy might get him into trouble, and that only frustrated him more.

“No, I don't care about what actually happened. Well, I do, but I don't think you have to tell me anything. It's your right to keep it secret if you'd like. I just thought I could help. Snivellus might not have embarrassed you if I hadn’t interrupted,” Sirius explained, setting the quill down and folding his hands on the smooth, wooden top of the table. He leaned forward and Remus instinctively stiffened. “If it’ll make your life easier, I'll tell people you were caught up in that fight we had last week. You were a random passerby that got hit pretty badly by that curse, and that's where those scars came from.”

“Why?” The word came out harsher than he meant it to, but Remus wanted to know. “Why do you care?”

Sirius shrugged. “You seem like you could use some help, is all. And I feel bad.”

The Gryffindor never seemed like the kind of person to feel guilt over something so mundane. Remus didn’t know if he believed him. “Well, I'm just fine. You don't have to do that.”

“I know I don't.”

Remus stared at him hard as he thought it through, weighing the pros and cons and realizing with some disappointment that the list was mostly positives. What else did he have to tell people? Nothing except the truth made any sense, and he certainly wasn’t going to bandy that information around like it was nothing, like it wouldn’t destroy the normal life he had striven for. Compared to the alternative, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Alright,” Remus finally conceded. He didn’t really want to, but something tugged at him to comply.

Beaming, Sirius leaned further across the table and into Remus’ personal space, reminding him very much of a dog that had just been offered pets. “Then you agree? You’ll accept my help?”

“I think I may regret it, but yes.”

The speed with which Sirius jumped from his chair nearly sent it toppling backwards. “You probably will,” he admitted, “but I suspect it’ll be better than nothing. I’ll set to work tonight, I think. Good night, Lupin.”

Remus blinked up at him, startled. “Good night.”

Sirius made to leave, flashing him another brilliant smile, and Remus watched him go, questions burning and unanswered on the tip of his tongue. It made absolutely no sense that this boy, who Remus had spent an embarrassing amount of time fawning over but done nothing about it, would want to help him, unbidden. But, as he reasoned, this story was no more farfetched than anything else Remus could have come up with. Having another person peddling the lie wouldn’t hurt, either.

He breathed a sigh of relief at being alone again, and turned his attention back to his abandoned homework. With a forlorn sigh, he realized then that his numbers had been drowned in splotches of ink and Sirius had pocketed his quill before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love reading the comments left and it warms the cockles of my heart when y'all get so into this story of mine. Thank you for sticking around and suffering through this slow burn. I've absolutely loved writing these characters and sharing my interpretations of them with you.
> 
> ALSO: I listen to a lot of The Smiths while I write this fic ("This Charming Man" may be my favorite at the moment), so everyone give them a listen and think of Remus hoarding their records and listening to them constantly.


	6. Kingsley

It hadn't taken long for James to go back on his promise to forsake pranks and be the model of maturity. In fact, the moment Sirius stepped foot in the common room for the first time since the duel, fresh from the Hospital Wing and complaining of bedsores, James began planning their revenge against Snape. Neither Peter nor Sirius commented on James’ quick change of heart, but they were grateful for it all the same. Apparently Evans hadn’t even noticed that James was a reformed man in the short day and a half that he attempted it, so there was no great loss anyways. If Sirius had to guess, he would’ve said that  _ because _ Evans had not remarked upon his personal growth and development, that had been exactly why James threw himself headfirst into planning something dastardly.

It should have been everything Sirius wanted, since it was Snape who had put him in the infirmary in the first place, and he never ignored an opportunity to make the boy’s life a living hell. But, as the three Marauders brainstormed all the horrible, borderline-illegal things they could do to the Slytherin, Sirius couldn’t focus. His mind drifted and it felt impossible to contribute anything to James’ mad plans when his thoughts were full of dark creatures and a boy he barely knew.

Sirius was obsessed. There was no other word for it. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a face barely recognizable, bloodied and bruised like something out of a Muggle horror film, and the need to  _ know _ drove him practically insane. He wanted to know how a meek, fly-on-the-wall Ravenclaw managed to get himself into the kind of trouble that ended in private quarters and limited visitors. He wanted to know what kind of monster was lurking so near the school that it could have gotten its claws into someone. He wanted to know why it had been treated with such secrecy, and if Lupin’s skin would carry any evidence of whatever attacked him after days of salves and healing potions.

Sunday evening, after a day and a half of being withdrawn and uncharacteristically quiet, James perched on the foot of Sirius’ bed and fixed him with a bemused stare.

“What?” Sirius looked up from an old Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook he’d rummaged around his trunk all morning for, worrying the corner of a page detailing the nature of Rougarous between his fingers. He didn’t miss the way James’ brows furrowed and eyes darted to the illustration on the page, a crude drawing of a man with the head of a dog, blood dribbling down its chin.

“You’ve been weird, mate,” James finally admitted, tearing his gaze away from the book in Sirius’ hands. “Ever since you got out of the Hospital Wing yesterday. And you’re  _ reading _ .”

Sirius scoffed. “I can read, James.”

“You don’t  _ like _ to read,” James corrected himself, frowning. “This isn’t like you. You’ve been distracted and weird all yesterday and today. Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m just...doing some research.” Dog-earring his place in the old textbook, Sirius shut it gently and set it aside. His paltry explanation did little to assuage the look of confusion on James’ face, and he sighed, tangling his fingers in the long hair at the nape of his neck while he thought. Something inside of him didn’t want to tell James the truth, the same part of him that lied when James asked if he’d seen anything of the other patient in the infirmary the day before. But, he was unused to keeping things from his best friend and he ached to say something, anything, that would ease James’ suspicions that there was anything wrong. And there wasn’t anything wrong, not really; not with Sirius, at least.

“I’m looking into something,” Sirius began, mulling over his words for a long minute before continuing. “I can’t tell you what it is, exactly, because I’m not really sure what it is. But it feels important.”

“Alright.” James didn’t look any more convinced, but he wouldn’t push against him too much further. He knew better than to dig into matters his friend obviously didn’t want digging into. “More important than making Snivellus’ life a living hell?”

Sirius nodded. James whistled.

“Well, then. If whatever this is all about is more important than plotting Snivellus’ demise, it must be very important, indeed,” the bespectacled boy conceded, using the bedpost to pull himself up to his feet. “Will you tell me what you’ve found out, when you know something?”

Again, Sirius nodded. “Of course I will. I just need to know if I’m crazy for even looking into this, first.”

“Mate, we already know you’re a loon. There’s nothing to prove there.” James laughed as he dodged a pillow aimed for his face, howling when Sirius sent another after him and knocked his glasses askew.

For the rest of the evening, Sirius holed himself up in his four-poster and poured over his old textbooks, keeping a list of every possible creature he came across that could have attacked Remus Lupin. It was only when he nearly tumbled off the side of his bed, half-asleep and swaying dangerously on the edge of the mattress, did he tuck his books and notes in the drawer of his nightstand and extinguish his light.

That night, he dreamt of the Forest and a full moon hung in the indigo night sky, sharp breeze whipping through his hair as he ran on all-fours across cold, packed dirt. Heavy footfalls followed him and he drove his hands and feet harder into the ground to push himself faster along. It was only when he broke the treeline and nearly tumbled off the side of a small cliff, down into the inky depths of the Lake, that he stopped and turned to face the thing that pursued him. There was a rustle of the leaves, like something was struggling against the bushes that shielded it from view. He waited with baited breath for whatever it was to emerge, but as it finally stepped out into the clearing, bathed in the silver light of the moon, Sirius awoke. He couldn’t remember what it was in the pale light of morning, and he laid in bed for minutes trying to.

\--

The first glimpse Sirius had gotten of Lupin’s face was so brief that Sirius half-convinced himself that he’d imagined its severity. As he trudged down to the Great Hall with his friends, still groggy and disoriented from a restless night of odd dreams, Sirius wondered if Lupin would show up to breakfast that morning unharmed, and Sirius would be forced to admit that he really was as crazy as James often joked. He wasn’t sure what he would do if it turned out that the Ravenclaw was totally fine; if he would still look into this mystery without any evidence to turn to, or if he could laugh it off and pretend it’d never happened.

There was no reason to worry, as it turned out.

The three Gryffindors entered the Great Hall and made a beeline for their usual table, James and Peter debating the latter’s chances at making the House Quidditch Team that year while Sirius scanned the Ravenclaw Table across the room. Shacklebolt caught his eye first, towering over everyone that sat near him, then Sirius recognized the tawny hair of the boy sitting across from him. Lupin’s back was turned, so he had no way of seeing his face, but Sirius knew it was him. Lupin’s hair wasn’t near as long as Sirius’ own, but it curled over the tops of his ears and at the nape of his neck, disheveled in a way that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, like it had when he’d found him covered in mud in the bathroom the week before. Remus’ long fingers reached up occasionally to tug at the ends - a nervous habit, Sirius thought - and he took small bites between speaking with his friend across the table and the small blonde girl sitting beside him. Desperately, Sirius waited for Lupin to turn and give him a clearer view of his face, but the boy stubbornly refused to give in to his silent demands.

“Oi, there’s Snivellus,” Peter remarked, pulling Sirius from his trance and pointing to where the greasy git stalked into the Great Hall. Snape looked like he’d woken up with the stench of something dead in his nostrils. It wasn’t too different than most mornings.

James twisted on the bench to get a good look at him and Sirius listened, not really paying attention, as his friends discussed their plan for revenge. All three watched as Snape made his way to his House’s table and sat by a group of sixth and seventh-years, which wouldn’t have warranted much attention, except that almost as soon as he sat down facing the remaining House Tables, Snape saw something that turned his grimace into a vindictive grin. He said something to his housemates and then stood. Something about the way he moved towards the Ravenclaw table with such purpose made dread settle heavy in Sirius’ gut, knowing that whatever was about to happen would not be good.

Snape finally paused behind Lupin and the girl Sirius didn’t recognize. He must have said something, because Remus turned achingly slow to face the git and,  _ finally, _ Sirius saw his face.

He was paler than Sirius remembered, and three jagged lines drew across Lupin’s cheek, parallel in a way that reminded him of claws. One of the marks looked far worse, though, deeply nestled in the corner of his mouth and brighter, angrier than the others. There were other scars, much smaller than those on his cheek, but Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy’s mouth.

Suddenly, Shacklebolt stood and shook the table with the force of the movement, and Sirius realized he wasn’t the only one staring at that point. Other students noticed there was something the matter and they craned their necks to see what was going on, hopeful for a fight or a duel between the older students until a professor caught wind of it and broke them apart. Even James and Peter had gone silent beside him.

“I think you ought to leave,” Kingsley’s voice carried over the hushed room, low and gravelly. He didn’t seem to notice the attention their table had garnered, gaze unwavering until Snape hissed something in response and stomped off, exiting the Great Hall like he hadn’t just arrived.

_ What the hell was that about?  _ Sirius thought as the Great Hall erupted in noise once more.

It was all a little ridiculous, if not highly dramatic. But, as Snape left a wake of whispers and curious glances behind him, the Gryffindor wondered if that had been the point. He watched as Lupin shrunk in his seat, ducking his head to hide his face that, up until then, had been fairly inconspicuous to those around him. Thanks to Snape, his cover had been blown. Maybe that had been the point.

“I’d understand if the prat did something like that to us, but what do you think he has against Reginald?” Peter finally broke their silence, swiveling in his seat to face his friends.

“It’s Remus,” Sirius corrected. He only thought it strange that he would have cared when Peter raised a brow.

“Well, whatever. Snivellus must really hate him. I wonder what he did?”

James said something about Snape being a “bloody dumb cock” - which Sirius agreed with wholeheartedly - and then their table erupted into chatter about the scene that had just been made and the duel last week. Sirius barely registered that Mary Macdonald was asking him how he was feeling with Frank and Marlene looking on, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to preen under the attention. Until the small group of Ravenclaws across the Great Hall finally gathered their things and left, Sirius kept his eyes trained on the back of Lupin’s head.

\--

If it wouldn’t have resulted in his expulsion and subsequent life-sentence in Azkaban, Kingsley would have killed Snape after that stunt he pulled. He couldn’t begin to fathom his motives behind embarrassing Remus like that in front of the whole school, except to be cruel. Snape never did like Remus, he thought grimly, not after that accident their third year, and by extension didn’t like Kingsley either. They’d been left alone since term began, though, and Kingsley hadn’t given the vile boy any thought till that morning.

There were rumors that students were dabbling in Dark Arts, even going so far as to join up with You-Know-Who once they graduated, and Snape always seemed like the perfect candidate for that sort of thing. Kingsley didn’t know him very well, but the few interactions they had left no doubt in his mind that he’d be capable of it, especially after that morning. He could admit to himself that a small part of him hated Snape for his friend’s sake and he was willing to think the worst of him.

Professor McGonagall tolerated the whispering and staring for about ten seconds before she started threatening detention and extra assignments during Transfiguration that afternoon, and the sixth-years took her threats seriously. Remus shrunk in his seat at the added attention and Kingsley bristled, his anger unrelenting. It was a miracle that he hadn’t cursed anyone so far. The only thing he could think of to accredit it to was Pandora. She’d spent the majority of the day with the two boys when she could, resting a calming hand over Kingsley’s arm each time his hand twitched for his wand hidden in his pocket. She was seated on the opposite side of Remus now, a quiet, powerful sort of presence, odd in her own way but stalwart. Remus relaxed when she flashed him a small smile.

Pandora had always been something of a loner, even amongst the socially awkward and introverted sorts that filled their House, but she’d taken a liking to studying with Remus and Kingsley in the past. She had told them once last year that they had beautiful auras, and Kingsley thanked her, not knowing what an aura was but sensing the compliment all the same. She continued studying with them from time to time after that.

The girl was soft-spoken and intelligent, and she always looked at people like she was seeing them for the first time, curious and attentive, leaving Kingsley with the impression that he was important. It was a good feeling. He thought that maybe she looked at Remus like that and sensed he needed another kind face around, and that’s why she was spending time with them outside of designated study periods. It was a mysterious set of motives that Kingsley would think over and try to solve when he had a moment to spare.

For now, Kingsley was trying to split his attention between the lecture Professor McGonagall was giving on human transfiguration and the way his friend squirmed in his seat every few seconds, scowling like he smelled something foul.

“Mate, settle down,” Kingsley whispered when the professor paced to the other side of the room and out of earshot.

Remus flashed him an apologetic look, eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “but it feels like someone’s watching me.”

“That’s because they are.”

Lips pursed, the sandy-haired boy shook his head. “I  _ know  _ that, but it’s just...” He trailed off, face turned just enough for him to fix his gaze on something over his shoulder, and Kingsley followed it. He lacked Remus’ subtlety and twisted completely in his chair to look for whatever it was that Remus sought, surprised to see that most of their classmates  _ had  _ taken Professor McGonagall’s threats to heart. Most were torn between paying attention to the lecture or their friends, losing interest Remus after being scolded so thoroughly. There was one person, however, that hadn’t looked away.

Sirius Black looked guilty only for a moment. His expression hardened and flicked his gaze away as though he hadn’t been caught looking in the first place. When Kingsley turned back to his friend, Remus ducked his head to avoid the question hanging in the air between them. Something told him that it wasn’t necessarily the act of being stared at that bothered Remus but rather the person who was staring, and that revelation only made Kingsley more uncomfortable.

It always came back to that boy, Kingsley thought.

The staring wouldn’t have been that serious of an issue - he was right, everyone was staring, after all - but it continued throughout dinner that night and into breakfast the following morning and classes all throughout the day. Remus wouldn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Kingsley noticed it constantly since he caught Black looking the first time, and it felt like every time he turned around, Black’s eyes were on Remus and unwavering until he realized he wasn’t quite as subtle as he thought. Sometimes, the Gryffindor didn't even shy away, and Kingsley had to wonder if he’d noticed he’d been caught in the first place, he was so focused. The way he looked at Remus was difficult to describe; it was thoughtful, solemn, Kingsley thought. It was in those moments that Kingsley wondered if Black was more keen than he let on, not quite the insipid pretty boy he pretended to be.

Merlin, if he had been wrong about Remus’ privacy in the Hospital Wing…

Following dinner Tuesday evening, Remus excused himself to go to the library and neither Kingsley nor Pandora joined him. It was obvious that he needed some time alone, after having been flanked by his two friends everywhere he went, Kingsley skirting the edge of hovering and Pandora too quiet to notice sometimes but there all the same. Remus didn’t have to explain why he emphatically protested Kingsley’s suggestion that they join him, and Kingsley deigned to remain in the common room once he realized there’d be no winning that argument.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Kingsley mused, eyes trained on the common room entrance as though Remus would come walking through it at any moment, even though he just left three minutes ago.

Pandora looked up from her book -  _ Vampires in Vienna: A Love Affair Between Muggles and the Occult  _ \- and traced his line of vision to the door. Marking her page, she set the book aside and twisted on the sofa they shared, folding her legs beneath her and facing Kingsley as though they were about to have a serious conversation. For all Kingsley knew about her, they might have been. “What makes you say that?” she asked.

Kingsley shrugged. “He’s not good with all this attention. It drives him crazy.”

“I can understand that feeling,” Pandora sympathized, tucking a lock of long, straight hair behind her ear. She looked at him for a long moment before speaking again, eyes bright and blue and bigger than Kingsley remembered, “But Remus is stronger than he lets on. He’ll be alright.”

“I know he is,” Kingsley pushed down his defensiveness at the statement, “but I’m just worried about him. What if he gets hurt?”

Her smile lacked the judgement Kingsley would have expected from anyone else and she covered his hand with her own, a brief, comforting squeeze, as though she thought the physical interaction might draw out his worry, and Kingsley felt like maybe it did. He suddenly felt lighter. “Then he’s very lucky to have a friend as good as you, who cares so much about him. So long as you’re around, I imagine you won’t let anything happen to him,” she said, and then withdrew her hand without another word, returning to her book as the conversation came to a close.

They sat and read in companionable silence for another hour or so until they were both stifling yawns and Pandora excused herself for bed. Kingsley found himself trudging up the steps to his own dormitory minutes later, feet lead-heavy and mind churning, thinking over what Pandora said in relation to what he’d observed. Something kept bringing him back to Sirius Black and the way he studied Remus, and no logical answer provided itself when he questioned  _ why _ Black took such an interest in him. Remus definitely noticed, but refused to bring it up, guarding whatever he felt behind dodged questions and steely glances. If he was at all affected by the boy he’d been infatuated with for years finally paying some attention to him, he didn’t show it. Possibly because the reason for the attention was anything but palatable.

Kingsley got ready for bed and tucked himself away in the cobalt and navy sheets of his four-poster, unable to sleep with everything that was still on his mind, even when the lights went out soon after. It was nearly eleven when he finally heard the heavy wooden door creak open. The figure of a boy, tall and shoulders hunched, slipped through the door, fingers grasping for purchase on nearby furniture to guide him across the room without stubbing a toe. Remus didn’t spare a glance for his friend as he shed his uniform like a second skin, left only in an undershirt and boxer shorts, and crawled into bed.

“Hey,” Kingsley whispered, breaking the silence that settled heavy over their dorm, “everything alright?”

He could just barely see Remus’ face in the darkness, moonlight washing him in a pale glow when he met Kingsley’s curiosity with a furrowed brow. “I’m not sure,” Remus murmured in reply. “Good night, Kings.”

Ignoring the unasked questions lingering between them, Remus shifted so that his back was turned on his friend, fidgeting and restless until his breathing finally slowed. Kingsley rolled over onto his back and resigned himself to a night of little sleep, wondering if Pandora was right to say he shouldn’t have been worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always imagined Sirius looking a lot like Luke Pasqualino, so I'm operating under that head canon for this fic. Remus looks like Andrew Garfield in my head, but only when he's in "Never Let Me Go". If you don't know what I'm talking about, do a quick google search for them both and bask in their beauty.
> 
> Do y'all have any dream casts for these boys? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> XOXO


	7. Damsels

True to his word, Black told anyone who asked about the duel - and many who didn't - that he wasn't the only casualty in the courtyard that fateful afternoon. When Remus heard the story repeated back to him at breakfast the morning following their encounter in the library, he didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified.

“It's barely eight; how did you already hear about it?” Remus asked Pandora, leaving his food untouched and beseeching his new friend to divulge her secrets with slices of bacon left on her plate, as though she didn't already have unlimited amounts available to her at the table. It was a meager offering, but a successful one nonetheless.

She picked up a greasy piece and chewed on it thoughtfully for a long moment before responding, “I overheard it in the girls’ toilets. They said you'd been returning a book to the library when you were caught in the crossfire. Is that really true?”

Remus could feel Kingsley’s eyes boring holes into the side of his head, incredulous and confused and maybe a little hurt this was the first he was hearing of this. He still felt guilty for brushing him off so quickly the night before, but he had been too exhausted to explain himself when he returned to the dormitory after whatever _that_ had been with Sirius in the library. He was hoping to have a moment to talk it over with his friend before the news was spread. Apparently Sirius hadn’t been kidding when he’d get started on it immediately.

“The details are a bit, um, fuzzy,” Remus lied, stirring his cup of tea for want of something to keep his hands busy. “I didn’t know what was going on.”

Pandora fixed him with an assessing look and then gave a curt nod, his story acceptable by her standards. Whether she truly believed it or not was another matter altogether, but Remus would worry about that later. What was concerning him at the moment was the way Kingsley tensed beside him as the untruth left his mouth, hands fisted on the table and refusing to look either of his friends in the eye. The three sat in silence for a few moments longer, Remus determinedly not eating any of his food but shifting it around on his plate, while Pandora hummed beneath her breath as she ate and Kingsley chewed in sullen quiet. The awkwardness was dissipated momentarily when a fourth-year leaned over from her place to Remus’ right and asked about the duel.

“Hannah Goekel told me you were hit when Black ducked and Snape’s spell got you instead. She heard it from Sirius Black himself,” the breathless redhead recited, hazel eyes wide.

Swallowing, Remus nodded jerkily. “Erm, yes. Nasty curse, that was.”

“Wow,” the girl sighed. By this point, two of her friends had turned their heads to overhear what was being said, no doubt to contribute to the rumors already spreading like Fiendfyre around the school.  “It was a dark one, wasn’t it? That’s why it left marks?”

Remus nodded again and was met with another chorus of wondrous sighs and whispers. One of the eavesdroppers - a boy with crooked glasses and freckles, probably barely taller than Pandora - leaned in closer, invading the personal space of the first girl without seeming to notice the wrinkle of her nose, and demanded, “But why does it look like a bear got you?”

“It was the curse, you idiot,” Kingsley snapped from behind Remus’ shoulder. Remus startled, twisting in his seat and met with Kingsley’s frown. He didn’t think his friend had really been paying attention.

“Yeah,” the first girl agreed, “I heard it was like an invisible claw. Snape made it himself.”

The younger Ravenclaws dissolved into heated argument soon after and debated the possibility of creating such a spell, which quickly became a debate in magical theory, and their attention no longer lingered on Remus or his scars. He was given a moment to breathe, to collect his thoughts and wonder what all Black must have told people already. Remus needed to corroborate his story with whatever the Gryffindor must have come up with; he felt like an idiot for not doing it the night before when they were alone in the library and the idea fresh in his mind. It wouldn’t matter very much in the end - people would twist whatever “facts” they’d initially been given and a thousand different stories would flit from person to person by the end of the week. Remus would feel better if he had _some_ grasp on what was being said, all the same.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving,” Kingsley suddenly declared, pushing his plate away from him and standing to gather his book bag. Remus shot up out of his seat without thinking, and he flashed Pandora an apologetic look as he clambered over the bench to follow him. Kingsley was already sweeping through the Great Hall in an effort to escape.

“Go on,” Pandora urged, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

Relief spurred Remus on and he waved goodbye, practically running to catch up with the much taller, much faster boy. “Wait, Kings!” Remus called out as he hit the outside corridor, voice echoing off the high-vaulted ceiling and making Kingsley to falter in his steps. With his head hung low, he waited for Remus to catch up, but the scowl twisting at his lips stopped Remus from coming too close. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Kingsley shook his head. “It’s stupid,” he admitted. His features didn’t soften, and as Remus opened his mouth to inquire after further explanation, Kingsley began taking the steps two at a time, leaving Remus to scramble into action and stumble up the stairs after him.

“Wait! I don’t understand why you’re acting like this,” Remus said breathlessly, grateful when they finally reached the second floor and Kingsley slowed to a normal pace. His long stride made it difficult to keep up, but Remus was determined to match his steps.

“I told you, it’s stupid and I just need to get over myself.” Kingsley raked his fingers over his smooth head and avoided looking Remus in the eye. “Did you know Black was going to spread those rumors?”

Remus nodded, thinking he was understanding what this was all about. He was an idiot - he should have told him first thing when he got back to the dorm last night. It looked like he was keeping secrets now.

“Does this have to do with what happened last night?” Kingsley finally asked. Remus felt no smugness at being right. “I know something _did_ happen. You were all weird when you got back.”

“I...I guess so, yeah,” Remus answered. “Sirius found me, last night. In the library.”

Kingsley frowned. “Why? What did he want?”

“He said that he wanted to help,” admitted Remus. He swallowed and barreled on, “I don’t know why. But, he said he could help me. He’d tell everyone I was involved in that fight last week.”

“But _why?_ ”

“I don’t know!” There was an edge to Remus’ voice that he didn’t like, just as confused and angry as his best friend likely felt.

Kingsley dragged a hand over his face, eyes squeezing shut. Remus deflated, watching his best friend take a deep breath before his eyes fluttered open again, less angry than just a moment ago but still troubled. “Remus, I don’t want you getting hurt,” he confessed when Remus thought the uncomfortable silence between them would settle under his skin and linger for the rest of the day. “I know I said that he couldn’t have seen anything, but now I’m not so sure. He’s been watching you. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“I’ve thought about that. This whole thing he’s doing hasn’t made me feel any better about it, but I don’t really have other options, do I? People have been asking questions, and I can’t answer them. This seemed like a better alternative.”

“Are you sure this won’t make the whole thing any worse?”

Remus had been asking himself the same thing since Black left him in the library the night before, his heart hammering in his chest and mind whirring, unsure if it had really happened or if he’d hallucinated the whole thing. “I don’t know,” Remus repeated. He didn’t know a lot of things lately, and he hated that feeling. It was alien and unbearable. “But it’s better than nothing.”

Far from convinced, Kingsley clapped a hand to Remus’ shoulder. The gesture was warm and sympathetic, and it made Remus feel a little better.

“Just be careful, alright? I don't like it,” Kingsley sighed, dropping his arm. “I’m sorry for being a prick this morning.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry for keeping this from you. We don't keep secrets from each other.”

Kingsley nodded, accepting the apology so quickly Remus wondered what he did to deserve a friend like him. “Right.” He turned and motioned for Remus to follow as he continued on his path to the Ancient Runes classroom. They walked a comfortable distance apart, quiet but not uncomfortably so, until they reached the door and Remus had to say his goodbyes and continue onto Arithmancy.

Before Kingsley disappeared through the doorway, Remus gave his arm a nudge. “I promise to be careful.”

“You better be,” Kingsley quipped and flashed him a smile. Remus couldn't help but return it with a small grin of his own, and waved him off into class. He went upstairs only hoping that he could keep his promise.

\--

Remus was just released from class and embarking on a walk to clear his head when he spotted a familiar face at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and laughing at something a pretty brunette was saying to him. The sight stopped Remus mid-step, only keeping himself from stumbling by grasping for the iron railing. Something about Sirius’ crooked smile made his heart flutter and it wasn’t even for him, nerves shooting panicked warnings to his head, crying, _Retreat! Retreat!_ He made to retrace his steps, lifting a foot to creep quietly back up the stairs, but with his attention on Sirius and _not_ on the centuries-old staircase, Remus should have seen the fall coming. His foot missed the edge of the stone step by a scant inch and the awkward displacement of his weight sent him straight down.

Any hopes of escaping without Sirius’ notice evaporated the moment he clattered to the ground.

“Oi, is that you, Lupin?” Sirius and the girl both turned at the noise. Remus wished the stone would fall away and swallow him whole, wincing as he tried to straighten his spine and push himself up. His back ached with the movement.

“Ah, erm, yes. It's me,” Remus called down to them breathlessly, still attempting to stand when he heard lithe footsteps approach. He glanced up just as Sirius reached him.

“Merlin, Lupin. You’re a clumsy little fellow, aren't you?” The Gryffindor smirked and held a hand out to help him up.

Pushing himself to his feet, the Ravenclaw scowled at Sirius’ proffered hand and batted it away, ignoring the way his stomach did backflips when the other boy just laughed. “I'm not clumsy. And I'm not little; I'm taller than you,” Remus mumbled.

This made Sirius laugh again for reasons unknown, and he turned to address the girl he’d left at the foot of the stairs. “I'll see you later, Mary! Give Marlene my love in front of Peter, would you? It’ll drive him crazy,” Sirius said, waving and smiling as the girl - Mary - rolled her eyes and walked away. He watched her retreating figure until she turned the corner. The moment she was out of view, Sirius turned his full attention back on Remus, silver eyes glittering with the dim light of the narrow stairwell. “So, hear any interesting stories lately?”

“Black, listen-”

The Gryffindor held up a hand to stop him. “Call me Sirius. Say ‘Black’ and I think my brother’s looming over my shoulder.”

Remus blinked. He did _not_ think about how that sent his traitorous heart into overdrive, hammering away within his chest. “Sirius, we need to talk.”

“Great! Not here, though.” Sirius grabbed Remus by the forearm and dragged him up the stairs, back towards the Ancient Runes classroom, ignoring Remus’ startled protests.

“ _Really,_ you can’t just go around manhandling people like that! What’s wrong with you? Where are we going?” Remus cried out, attempting to break away from Sirius’ grip with little success. If he was starting to panic, it was only because this was _Sirius Black_ touching him and he wasn't sure he could trust him not to throw him in a broom closet and leave him there.

Sirius didn't reply; just waved his free hand in the air and wrinkled his nose like that was a good enough answer. He glanced over both shoulders to ensure they weren’t seen, and then opened a door and all but shoved Remus into an empty classroom. “ _Excuse-_ ”

“Calm down, Remus,” Sirius bid as he shut the door with a quiet _click_. He withdrew his wand to tap the doorknob, spelling it to lock. “I didn’t want anyone to overhear.”

It was difficult to determine what Remus wanted to dispute first - ignoring the existence of the Silencing Charm, or the unnecessary use of force when simply _asking_ Remus to follow would have sufficed - but in the moment Remus took to think over his options, Sirius had begun fiddling with the knot at the base of his throat, frowning as he tried loosening the tie that was already too loose by dress code standards. Remus watched, transfixed by this seemingly innocuous action, and realized just how fucked he was, if he was so far gone already.

There was only one window in the classroom, which was covered in a thick layer of dust that proved this room had been forgotten for some time, and the little light it let through cast a dim glow over everything inside it, Sirius included. Purple shadows fell over his light brown skin and accentuated his jawline and cheekbones, his hair falling in an inky black curtain over his eyes as he bent his head to watch his fingers work. Remus wondered if Sirius knew how expressive his face was, watching his thick eyebrows furrow and his mouth twist in a focused frown until he finally succeeded in pulling the knot free, features accentuated by the shadows. His face lit up in relief, full lips curving into that infuriating, lopsided grin, and he yanked the tie from his neck with a flourish. Remus quickly looked away.

“Now, that’s better!” Sirius declared, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. If he noticed the blush creeping up the taller boy’s neck and cheeks, he made no mention of it. “Where were we? Ah, yes, you had your panties in a twist because I ‘manhandled’ you into this room-” He held up a finger when Remus began to protest and continued, “And now we’re going to have a very serious conversation, if that look on your face is any indication.”

Remus tried to school his features into forced apathy, but he wasn’t sure it worked when Sirius raised one of his brows at him. “What look?”

“You look like you’ve smelled something foul. You always look like that when I’m around.”

“I do not!”

“Listen, mate, I’m used to people not taking a liking to me; it’s alright! I’m an acquired taste, one which not even my parents find palatable, so it doesn’t bother me. I just thought you should know, it’s not a very attractive look on you,” Sirius answered.

Gaping like a Lobalug out of water, Remus wracked his brain for something to say that could possibly dispel whatever assumptions Sirius had made about him, but came up completely short. Trying to pretend he felt anything other than complete and utter frustration in equal measure to infatuation for the boy was impossible. He certainly wasn’t going to admit he _fancied_ the git. “Fine,” Remus snapped his mouth shut. “I wanted to speak to you about this story you’ve been telling people.”

Sirius nodded and leaned against a dusty desk, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the perfect picture of effortless cool. “What about it?”

“Well,” Remus wet his lips nervously, “I’d like to know exactly what you’re saying. So I can keep my story straight. I'm not good at this.”

“Ah, yes. This is why you’re a Ravenclaw and the brains of this operation. I hadn’t thought to fill you in on the details. Figured it wouldn’t matter at the end of the day.”

Remus pursed his lips until he remembered what Sirius said and relaxed his mouth. “Well, _I_ figure it’s better to know so I don’t mess anything up. I’ve already been asked about it twice this morning.”

“Of course you have! It’s prime gossip, especially around Gryffindor House.” Brushing an errant lock of hair out of his eyes, Sirius explained, “I had James help me spread the story. You were passing through the courtyard with your nose in a book and didn’t even hear the fighting, you were reading so hard. And then, _wham!_ ” Sirius clapped his hands together. “You got hit with one of Snivellus’ curses when I ducked out of the way, not knowing a poor, defenseless Ravenclaw was behind me. I, of course, ran to your aid to make sure the prat didn’t kill you, but with my attention diverted he got me. Next thing I knew, I was bleeding out on the ground beside you. Dear old McGonagall found us on her way to dinner and rushed us off to the Hospital Wing before we died right there in the courtyard.”

Quiet fell between them as Sirius finished his story. It was ridiculous, Remus thought, and Sirius just looked so damn proud of it.

Suddenly, Remus barked with laughter, the noise unbidden and bubbling up his throat before he could think to stifle it.

“What?” It was Sirius’ turn to frown at Remus, straightening from his post against the desk and crossing both arms over his chest. “Why are you laughing?”

Doubled over, Remus held his stomach like it was the only thing keeping him from toppling to the floor again, and his lungs burned with laughter and wheezing. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed quite that hard, but he missed the feeling.

“ _What?_ ” Sirius demanded a second time, sounding so much like a petulant child that it made Remus laugh harder.

“ _Sorry-_ ” Remus gasped, wiping at the damp corners of his eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! You make it sound like you were some knight in shining armor!”

The frown on Sirius’ face deepened and Remus was unsurprised to find that that sent his heart racing, too. There was nothing the idiot could do with his face that didn’t look good. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s mental, that’s what’s wrong with it. I’m not some damsel in distress, you know,” he replied. “I’m not even a damsel.”

“Well, that much is obvious.”

It shouldn’t have sobered up Remus quite so quickly, but his laughter slowed to a heavy stop, the air around him suddenly stale. The image of Sirius laughing with Mary just minutes before came to mind, reminding himself how utterly hopeless everything he felt for this boy was. He cleared his throat as he tried to clear that thought from his head. “Right. Well, I stand by what I said. Your story is ridiculous.”

“It was eaten up by a load of first years last night, so obviously it wasn't _that-_ no, wait.” Realization dawned on him, Sirius’ expression thoughtful, and he shook his head. “Alright, maybe you have a point. But the damage is done, so it's out of our hands. It won't sound a thing like the original by the end of the week, anyways. It won't matter how it started.”

“Oh god,” Remus groaned. “I shouldn't have ever agreed to this. I'm regretting it already.”

Sirius shrugged and dragged a hand through his hair. “I told you so.”

\--

Later, when Sirius released Remus from the disused classroom and they went their separate ways, Sirius wondered if it was strange that the sound of the other boy’s laughter had felt like a Warming Charm on a cold day. Even at his own expense, Sirius thought he would like to hear it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has officially surpassed 50 pages in the Google Doc I keep this in. what the hell, y'all.
> 
> Hold onto your pants, y'all, we're getting closer to a major plot point I've been dying to write basically since this AU started and I CANNOT WAIT.
> 
> I love reading all your comments! Keep 'em coming. They bring me light and joy.


	8. Love Potions

The end of the week came without much excitement, even considered peaceful after last week’s disastrous duel in the courtyard. Sirius couldn't have said he was surprised, given his familiarity with the inner workings of Hogwarts’ rumor-mill, but the story of Remus’ unfortunate involvement in the duel had changed almost completely by Friday afternoon, and the velocity at which it’d been spread began to falter. His favorite version so far was that Remus had jumped into the line of fire to save Sirius from the first blast of the curse - which was no longer an invisible sword, or claw, or whatever it really was, but was now a full fledged beast that was conjured out of thin air. The idea that someone who looked on Sirius with such disdain and distrust every time they met would willingly sacrifice himself for him was ridiculous. And Sirius loved it. He might have even promoted that addition to the original story until he caught Remus glaring, overhearing him in Potions.

They hadn’t stolen away into empty classrooms for secret discussions since Wednesday, but Sirius found himself wishing they would, if only to give himself another chance to ruffle Remus’ feathers. It was a mystery to him, but he was sure Remus disliked Sirius simply on principle, always glaring and tensing up whenever Sirius so much as glanced in his direction. Granted, Sirius had been watching Remus more than was strictly appropriate since the start of the week, but the impatient, intolerant looks had been going on far longer than that. He was convinced Remus hated him and he wasn't able to pinpoint why. He wished he could say it didn't bother him, but on some level, it did, and that was just as confusing.

Sirius was used to being disliked - he was an acquired taste, someone that took some getting used to - and he was fine with it. He didn’t care, and it wasn’t like him to even bother thinking about it. That was part of Sirius’ charm, James always said with that shit-eating grin of his.

It didn’t change the fact that Remus still hated him and it gnawed at Sirius like a dog on a goddamn bone, though.

“Hey,  _ hey _ ,” James snapped his fingers in front of Sirius’ nose, grabbing at his attention and dragging it back to the present. Sirius blinked, looking ‘round at his friends clustered together at the table he’d found Remus at just a few nights prior. They didn’t often come into the library - Madam Pince had all but banned them several times over the years for a myriad of pranks - but James had insisted they needed to make use of their resources in order to ‘plan the best payback ever’ and they’d come there Saturday afternoon. Without even thinking, Sirius had led them to that back corner, behind the stacks of dusty books, and dropped into the chair he’d sat in once before.

James snapped again when no response was forthcoming. “Earth to Sirius Black,” he intoned. “Where’s your head, mate?”

Swallowing, Sirius pushed the hair from his eyes and shook his head free of the errant thoughts running through it. “Sorry, you were droning on and on for so long that I must’ve started thinking of something more interesting,” he drawled with a grin. James made an extremely rude hand gesture. Peter was stifling a chuckle, hidden behind his hand for fear that Madam Pince would hear and kick them out before they’d even gotten what they came for.

“You’re a prat.” James said that fairly often and he meant it, but it was a term of endearment at that point. “I was saying that we needed to find a way into Professor Slughorn’s stores. If we’re going to make this potion-” he jabbed a finger at the open page of the book he’d grabbed from the shelves, “-we need powdered horn of Bicorn, and Slughorn is the only one in the school who has it.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Why can’t we make something with...I don’t know, knotgrass? It grows in loads out in the Forbidden Forest, and we wouldn’t even have to break into a teacher’s office to get it,” he begged.

“No,” James gritted out and removed his glasses to rub uselessly at the lenses with his shirt, only smudging his own fingerprints over the glass. “It has to be  _ this  _ one, and I’ll accept nothing less. Snivellus has yet to pay for the shite he pulled.”

Leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the horror James was referring to, Sirius wondered if this would be the thing that finally got them expelled.

“You want to make a love potion?” Sirius asked incredulously, as though he hadn’t been sitting there the entire fifteen minutes James was pouring over the stacks behind them and going on about that exact potion since he sat down.

James fixed him with a sour look and said, “Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t care about any of this at all. Of  _ course  _ I want to make a love potion!” He made a grand, sweeping gesture that nearly smacked Peter in the nose, and continued on despite Peter’s muffled squeaks of protest. “And not just  _ any  _ love potion - the ancient shite, that you can’t find in Hogsmeade because it’s  _ too good  _ for mere mortals to get their hands on so easily.”

“James, this textbook is from 1922. I’d hardly call it ancient.”

Rolling his eyes, James grabbed for the book and drew it closer to his chest. “Whatever. It doesn’t change the fact that this potion is going to drive Snivellus insane and embarrass the shite out of him in the process.”

“What does it do, exactly?” Peter inquired, craning his neck to get a better look at the yellowed page. Sirius followed his line of sight, trying his best to read the scribbled text upside down and giving up two seconds in.

“It makes the drinker of the potion dream of the person you want them to fall in love with,” James answered matter-of-factly.

It was unimpressive, honestly. Sirius expected something bigger, more dramatic and definitely more embarrassing. So what if Snivellus dreamt of someone? Sirius had been having odd dreams the whole week prior -  _ flashes of hazel eyes and shallow breaths and running through moonlit woods _ \- and it hadn’t unsettled him in the least. They were  _ just dreams. _ They didn’t  _ mean _ anything.

As if sensing their reluctance, James let go of an exasperated breath. “This book says it gives the drinker wet dreams of the person who’s been embodied in the potion. It drives them mad with lust over the course of a week until they’re hopelessly in love and ready to do something stupid,” he explained. Peter snickered, ever the mature one, but Sirius couldn’t pretend he wasn’t more interested after that description.

“Alright, fine, Potter. This potion may not be as stupid as we thought. How do you embody someone in the potion anyways? And who do we want the git to fall in love with?” Sirius conceded.

James grinned, wolfish and proud, and Sirius felt excitement welling up in his chest. “How difficult do you think it’ll be to get a strand of Dumbledore’s hair?”

\--

By the time the sun began setting and the rumbling of stomachs reminded them of supper, the Marauders had spent more time in the library than they had in their previous five years at the school. They’d only been scolded by Madam Pince once, which was a miracle all in itself, and they’d managed to come up with a plan for how they would acquire the necessary ingredients and the hair of their headmaster for the love potion. It wouldn’t be ready for nearly a month - the recipe had said something about adding certain ingredients by the light of the full moon, which sounded like the kind of romantic tripe Sirius resolutely refused to take part in on principle - and so they had time to prepare. James wasn’t convinced that the potion on its own was good enough repayment for what Snape had done, and proclaimed that he would be looking into other forms of retribution in the downtime they had for this potion.

“Research can wait,” Peter whined when James made his intentions known. “I’m  _ hungry  _ and we’ve been here for hours.”

James rolled his eyes. “Mate, you’re always hungry. But you have a point. If we stay here any longer we may start using words like ‘discombobulation’ and ‘inconsequential’ in everyday conversation.” James closed the book and held it to his chest as though clinging to a lifeline, and waited as Peter clambered to gather his own things. His eyes narrowed when he noticed Sirius not making the move to leave as well. “Are you coming?” he asked expectantly.

When James dragged his two friends to the library earlier that day, Sirius hadn’t thought much about it when he grabbed the torn piece of parchment from his bedside table. He had taken to staring at it before he went to bed or when he had woken up from the same dream he’d been having every night for the past week, his mind trying to connect dots that he wasn’t even sure were there. The list had dwindled down from the entirety of  _ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _ to three dangerous creatures he thought most likely, but he needed more information on them if he wanted to narrow it down even further. And what better place to look into something that was most definitely  _ not  _ Sirius’ business than at the library? It wasn’t as though he deigned to venture there often, anyways.

“I’ll find you later,” Sirius told his friends. “I need to stick around and try to find some books for a project I’m working on.”

James looked as though he were about to protest - in all the time he’d known Sirius, the boy had never cared enough about a project to do actual research for it - but a flash of recognition passed over his face and he snapped his mouth shut. “Right. This the same project you were telling me about last week?”

Sirius nodded. “The same.”

“Right,” James repeated, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Have fun, then. We’ll see you later.”

“Wait-” Peter glanced between them, bewildered that Sirius was willingly spending time alone in the library and not understanding which project either of them could have been referring to, but any protests he had were quickly silenced when James took him by the arm and led him away. He casted a bemused look over his shoulder as they disappeared behind the tall bookshelves.

Finally alone, Sirius retrieved the list from his back pocket and unfolded the parchment, smoothing out the creases with calloused fingers. There were at least fifteen bullet points, with all but three beasts struck through as Sirius had eliminated the possibility of so many. He’d gone through his copy of Newt Scamander’s text alphabetically and listed the creatures dangerous enough to have been responsible for Remus’ stint in the Hospital Wing as he’d read through them. Beside their names he’d listed their classification, and then returned to the beginning to eliminate suspects based on their locations and anatomy. If the creature didn’t reside anywhere near Great Britain or have the claws large enough to leave those marks on Remus’ face, Sirius drew a line.

It was like real detective work, something that an Auror might do, Sirius thought excitedly, as he brushed his thumb over the remaining names. Except, he still wasn’t sure what he would do when he solved the mystery; if it would only widen the chasm between him and the Ravenclaw or if it would make a difference at all. He couldn’t even explain why the thought of displeasing Remus was so unappealing to him. They weren’t friends and Remus really disliked him, but Sirius couldn’t deny that there was something about the boy that piqued Sirius’ curiosity and drew him in. He wanted to know what it was that someone as normal as Remus felt like he had to hide from everyone.

Sirius read over his list before wandering into the stacks, chewing at his lip as he thought over them. He needed to find at least one book on all of them to feel like he had enough information before drawing a conclusion, but even then, he had no evidence to prove anything once he did have an idea of what did it.

_ Common Welsh Green - XXXXX _

_ Hidebehind - XXXX _

_ Werewolf - XXXXX _

Looking at them, they all sounded outlandish to Sirius. Had he not seen Remus’ bloodied face and chest that horrible morning in the Hospital Wing, he might have even convinced himself that he was being outrageous. But he  _ had  _ seen it and he couldn’t shake the feeling that his answer was in front of him. One of these creatures was responsible and there was a reason it wasn’t public knowledge.

“Dragons, dragons…” Sirius muttered as he crouched to study the spines of leather bound books with golden, etched words fading. It was dark where he’d retreated and he pulled his wand from his pocket, mumbling a quiet  _ lumos _ while he searched. There were books about dragon mating habits and nesting habits, as well as whole guidebooks dedicated to specific breeds. Finally he found what he was looking for, nestled between heavy tomes. He tipped the book about Common Welsh Green Dragons off its shelf and stowed it under his arm, bracing to pull himself off the floor.

Fervent whispering and the soft scuffle of feet stopped him, though. He could tell that it was two boys speaking to each other, voices panicked and high, and Sirius extinguished his wand. He remained curled in on himself at the base of the stacks, head bent towards the noise to hear what was being said.

“-find out! Someone’s going to catch on,” one of the voices hissed, coming to a stop in the next aisle over from where Sirius hid. “And then what will we do? We’ll be  _ expelled. _ Or worse! Thrown into Azkaban before we’re really  _ in. _ ”

The voice sounded familiar. It was too quiet and alarmed to really distinguish, but Sirius furrowed his brow and flattened himself against the books, straining his ears.

“No one will find out, Reg. We aren’t idiots like Malfoy and his friends; we won’t flaunt our positions quite so obviously,” the other boy said, and Sirius felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He knew who those voices belonged to.

His brother and Snape stood just a few feet away, huddled together in the darkened stacks of the library where no one generally ventured, and separated from Sirius by a layer of books and stale air. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and continued to listen, ignoring the anger and the sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“How do we know Dumbledore doesn’t already know what we’ve done?” Regulus questioned.

Sirius could hear Snape sighing, exasperated and sounding tired, before replying, “That old fool isn’t omniscient. If he knew of anything that passed this summer, do you think he would have allowed us to return? We’re  _ fine,  _ Regulus. Nothing can touch us now.”

Whatever Regulus said in response Sirius couldn’t distinguish from the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears, silently pulling away and waiting with his breath held until he heard their footsteps retreating, their conversation finished. He sat still for another minute, just to be certain they were well and truly gone, before falling backwards, off the pads of his feet and onto his bum in a careless heap. His mind was reeling.

It didn’t take much effort to put what they were saying together.

_ Nothing can touch us now. _

There had been rumors that more and more witches and wizards were aligning themselves with Lord Voldemort. He was growing more dangerous and more powerful, and his movement had gained an eerie sort of momentum among the pureblooded families the Blacks associated themselves with. Before Sirius was disowned and thrown out of 12 Grimmauld Place that summer, Sirius had overheard his father speaking to Abraxas Malfoy, the name of the dark wizard passing between them with a sort of reverence that made Sirius ill. He hadn’t been under any illusions that his family wasn’t intrigued by what Lord Voldemort was offering, but to hear Regulus allude to it, to suggest that maybe he’d even pledged an allegiance to the man, was unbelievable. Had Sirius not been just a few feet away and able to listen to every word they’d said, he would have denied it was even possible. The Regulus he knew wouldn’t have cast his lot with a man like that.

But, Sirius thought grimly, he supposed he didn’t know Regulus anymore. He hadn’t been allowed to, once Walburga burned his name off the family tree.

Steadying his breathing, Sirius grasped at the shelves above his head and pulled himself to his feet, swallowing when a fresh wave of nausea washed over him. He would  _ not  _ get sick in the middle of the library. He had a mission.

Sirius forced himself to move on to the next aisle of books on magical creatures, his  _ Comprehensive Guide to Common Welsh Greens  _ tucked securely under his arm, and grabbed what he needed on Hidebehinds and Werewolves before returning to his claimed table. He had originally planned on settling down in the library to do some preliminary research before finding his friends at supper, but after that shock to his system, staring up at his ceiling while he laid in bed the rest of the night sounded more appealing. He was contemplating this plan when he spotted a familiar figure in the chair he’d been sitting in before. He froze.

At the sound of his footsteps, Remus turned in his seat to see who it was that had intruded upon his corner. For a brief moment, a hopeful sort of look crossed Remus’ face, but it was quickly replaced with the scowl that Sirius was becoming very familiar with.

“Is this your bag?” Remus asked, jabbing a thumb at the offending article sitting opposite him at the table.

Sirius nodded. He peered down at the boy, still sort of in a haze after what had just happened, and he wondered again what it was he had done to make Remus hate him so much. Even before Sirius had spent an inappropriate amount of time watching him, Remus had always been glaring, always been turning his nose up at him whenever Sirius caught him looking. Maybe “hate” was too strong a word, Sirius thought, but certainly Remus reserved a certain amount of disdain for him, if the way he looked at him was any indication.

Remus stared back, eyes wide and golden in the enchanted light above their heads. Sirius was close enough to notice that the worst of Remus’ scars looked like a lopsided smile tugging at his lips, belying the frown twisting at his mouth the longer Sirius stared. He also noticed the freckles, smattered across Remus’ nose and cheeks like their own constellations. If he looked long enough he thought he could connect the dots.

Remus blushed and nervously pushed an errant lock of hair out of his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sirius shook himself from his stupor. He leaned forward to grab his bag, close enough to Remus he could feel the heat radiating off of him, pulling back slower than was strictly necessary. Remus stiffened. He was staring at the books in Sirius' arms.

“What are those?”

Sirius opened the bag and slipped the three books inside, casting Remus a curious glance. “Now, I know you know what a book is, Remus. You have your nose stuck in one all the time.”

Scowling, Remus turned his face away from him and shook his head. “I mean, why do you have those?”

“Why do you care?” Sirius couldn’t help the satisfaction he felt in that moment, knowing that Remus wouldn’t have minded what Sirius was reading if he wasn’t on the right track, if he didn’t recognize the name on at least one of the spines and  _ knew _ Sirius was onto him. When no reply was forthcoming, Sirius smirked and threw the bag over his shoulder. “See you later, Remus.”

Sirius felt Remus’ eyes on his retreating back as he disappeared into the aisles, and he wished he felt more triumphant, finding just a morsel of proof that he was onto something after all. But, no matter how hard he tried to focus on Remus’ shock, it was dampened by the private conversation he’d overheard moments before, which was more troubling than whatever creature was running loose near school grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lbh, the lack of regulations on love potions is alarming.


	9. Callipygian

It wouldn’t have taken a genius to realize that Remus had responded so viscerally to Sirius’ reading material because Sirius was barking up the right tree, and that he was getting close to finding an answer. But, the realization that his brother might have finally cracked and embarked on a path their parents could be proud of dampened any sense of accomplishment Sirius might have felt as he left the library that night, Remus gawking after him.

There wasn’t much that could be done about Regulus, Sirius knew, but he tried catching his eye in the hallway or in the Great Hall when he could; tried slipping notes into his bag when no one was looking; stalked him on school grounds to wait for a moment alone to ambush him and confront him for the huge mistake he was presumably making. The bugger was  _ never  _ alone now, though, like casting his allegiance with a dark wizard gave him a constant entourage of Slytherins to keep him from his infuriating brother.

Three days following the Second Great Library Incident (as he had begun referring to it in his head) found Sirius dodging students in the halls as he followed his brother through the second floor corridor and towards the boys’ toilets. Regulus didn’t spare his surroundings a second glance as he passed through the doorway, and seconds later Sirius followed, checking over his shoulder to ensure he hadn’t been seen.

Regulus stood in front of a sink and had just turned the tap when Sirius entered. He glanced up at him in the mirror, grey eyes so startling like Sirius’ own he nearly forgot his purpose for tailing him. Sirius took a breath to steel himself.

“Reggie, how are you?” Sirius remained near the door, leaning back against the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets, attempting informality but really just blocking his brother from escaping easily. His heart was stuttering in his chest.

Regulus studied him in the mirror, back still turned to him but his gaze unwavering. He tried to look threatening, unaffected by Sirius’ presence, but he still had that boyish air to him, face still round and eyes soft underneath furrowed brows. Sirius remembered then that Regulus was only fourteen and he felt like he was going to burst with the anger that filled him. There was no place for a fourteen year old boy in whatever was raging on outside.

Some of what he felt must have shown on his face because Regulus looked stricken for just a second, just long enough for Sirius to catch it, before schooling his features once more and casting his attention to the running water he’d neglected. “What do you want?” Regulus demanded.

“What, no pleasantries?” Sirius scoffed, “Mother would be horrified. She may be a raging bigot, but she taught her sons  _ manners _ .”

It was Regulus’ turn to laugh, derisive and cracking with a voice not yet fully changed, another reminder that Regulus was too young to get mixed up in whatever he was dipping his toes into. “You have no right to speak to me about  _ manners.  _ You’ve never treated anyone with respect in your life.”

“Ah, correction: I’ve never treated anyone with respect who didn't deserve it. There’s a very fine difference. I’d expect you to know that.”

Hands clean, Regulus twisted the tap and dragged his hands across his pleated trousers, finally turning to face his brother. He looked upset, frowning and studying Sirius with a calculating gaze, no doubt trying to work out Sirius’ motivations. Again, he said, “What do you want?”

Ah, there would be no playing, then. No back-and-forth and companionable insults. Sirius wasn’t surprised. “I think I know what you’re getting yourself into, Reggie. And you’re going to get yourself killed if you don’t get out of it now.”

Regulus’ stoicism faltered again, horrified. He licked his lips and shifted his weight from one foot to the other before steadying himself against the sink behind him, fingers clenching the porcelain edge so hard his knuckles turned white. “You don’t know  _ anything _ ,” he hissed.

“I know enough!” Sirius bit out, his patience finally wearing thin. “I know that you’re too young to get involved. And I know that you don’t really believe what that maniac is spewing. Honestly, Reggie? Blood purity? When did you ever buy into that shit?”

“You don’t know _ anything  _ about me!” Regulus reached for his wand, but Sirius was faster. He had his own wand drawn out before Regulus pulled his from his robes and aimed it at his brother’s chest. It felt wrong.

Breathing hard, Regulus held his wand at his side and watched Sirius’ steady hand with something like fear. “You have no idea what I’ve done,” the younger boy continued, quieter now. “And you have no right to meddle in my personal affairs. You mean  _ nothing  _ to me.”

The words hung between them like poison filling their lungs and Regulus showed no hint of shame or regret, watching his brother’s face crumple and his hold on his wand falter. Sirius ignored the gaping hurt in his chest as he crashed through the door and stumbled out into the empty corridor, wand still held aloft in his hand.

Regulus did not follow, but Sirius hadn’t expected him to.

\--

It was later that same afternoon that Sirius was accosted by Kingsley Shacklebolt. As though the day hadn’t been strange enough.

James had been passing notes back and forth between himself, Peter, and Sirius during Transfiguration, effectively distracting Sirius from what had happened that morning with talk of their prank. Sirius hadn't forgotten about the plan to brew a love potion, but it hadn't necessarily been at the forefront of his thoughts, taking a back seat to more pressing matters like younger brothers joining Dark Lords and dangerous beasts attacking demure, bookish acquaintances. The distraction was a pleasant one, though, and he was content to let James daydream about their success as they exited the classroom and made their way down the hall. It made him feel normal and less like the brooding, existential-crisis-having teenager he’d been as of late.

“I’m telling you, Sirius, he’ll never see it coming! He’ll wake up one morning and  _ wham! _ -” James did a swift uppercut through the air, sending Peter flailing to get out of the way. James and Sirius erupted into raucous laughter, easing some of the tension that had built up in Sirius’ chest since that morning.

“Oi! Black!”

All three Marauders spun to find the source of the booming voice close behind them. Sirius was surprised when he realized it was Kingsley Shacklebolt stalking up to the trio, towering above Sirius in a way that he did not find enjoyable and glaring like he could make Sirius burst into flames if he tried hard enough. The little that he knew of the other boy, he wouldn’t put it past him.

“Mister Shacklebolt, what can I do for you?” Sirius shoved his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled trousers, attempting to look frustratingly unflustered.

If Sirius was successful, Shacklebolt did a fine job of not letting on. “I’d like a word.”

“A word? I have plenty; you’ll have to be more specific. Callipygian is one of my personal favorites.”

Scowling, Shacklebolt crossed his arms over his chest and the heat of his gaze intensified. “Don’t be obtuse, Black. I’d like to speak to you in private.”

James squeezed Sirius’ shoulder without looking away from the Ravenclaw’s face. It would have been a comforting gesture had it not been for the way both James and Peter began to shuffle backwards, refusing to take their eyes off of Shacklebolt should he turn on them next. “Be brave, mate. We’ll hold a memorial in your honor if you don’t make it out alive,” he said. Good friend, James was. Sirius would have smiled had it not been for the knowledge that nothing good could come from this meeting after the horrible day he’d already had. 

Sirius nodded, resolute. “Alright, Shacklebolt, we’ll do this your way. Jamesy, if I don’t make it, I leave everything to you and Pete. Take care not to scratch any of my records or I’ll haunt you both. Bowie deserves to be treated kindly.” Sirius waved his two friends off as Shacklebolt directed him towards a narrower hall that abutted the main corridor. There weren’t as many people milling around, which made it less likely that anyone would come to Sirius’ aid if the taller boy tried to kill him, which was a distinct possibility judging by the look of utter loathing on his face. “You’re pretty scary when you want to be, has anyone ever told you that?” Sirius began, shifting his weight from foot to foot and allowing his fearless facade to fall the longer Shacklebolt glared.

“Yeah, I’ve been told. It’s a useful trait.”

“I’ll say.”

Perpetually frowning, Shacklebolt shook his head as if to clear it and said, “Look, I’ll make this quick: you need to leave Remus alone.”

That sparked Sirius’ interests, for obvious reasons. Since the Second Great Library Incident, he hadn't paid Remus much attention, not like he had previously, and steered clear of crowding him into anymore empty classrooms or confronting him in quiet corners of the castle. He wasn’t sure that Remus would have allowed him to come close after his reaction to Sirius’ reading material anyways. Remus had to have known what Sirius was looking into, and Sirius felt some triumph when he allowed himself a moment to reflect.

Shacklebolt’s clear attempt to scare Sirius off from his friend should have only made him feel better after the shitty day he was having.

It did.

“You'll have to be more clear. I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by that.”

Shacklebolt looked like he was in physical pain but continued, “He hasn't slept in three days. I know it's because of you, because every time you're mentioned he changes the subject.”

Sirius couldn't help the way his eyebrows shot up. “When I'm mentioned? Am I often a topic of conversation between you?”

“That's not-  _ no. _ ”

Finally, the intimidating facade was broken and Shacklebolt looked panicked, no longer looming over Sirius as he had just moment before and giving Sirius room to breathe. He quickly replaced his momentary embarrassment with defensive anger, and pressed on, “That isn't the point. I'm telling you to leave Remus alone, or next time I won't give you a warning. He's done nothing to you and you're making him miserable. He won't say it's you outright, but I know it is. No one else has made him this upset.”

“I don't know what to tell you, Shack, but I haven't done a thing to Remus. Last I recall,  _ he _ was avoiding  _ me,  _ and I feel a little hurt by that.” That was only partially true but the Ravenclaw didn't know any better. “I thought we were becoming friends, and then all of a suddenly he pretends I don't exist. How is that for fair?”

Shacklebolt looked like he wanted to protest - whether it was the nickname or matter of Sirius’ supposedly hurt feelings, he would never know - when the bell rung overhead, loud and shrill, and reminding them that they had another lesson to attend. Sirius didn't give a damn about arriving on time, but Shacklebolt certainly did, and the conflict of retreating or staying to bash the Gryffindor’s head in was visible on his face.

“Whatever, Black,” came his clever retort. “Just stay away from him. He's odd enough when it comes to you.”

Without any further threats, Shacklebolt turned and hurried down the hall, obviously wanting to run but too conscientious of school rules to act so recklessly. Sirius couldn't bring himself to move, though. He was too confused as to what the other boy’s parting words could have meant and remained planted where he stood while he tried to figure it out.

_ He’s odd enough when it comes to you.  _ Huh.

When no answer was forthcoming, Sirius resolved to skip his final class of the day and return to his dormitory instead to think on the matter. As infuriatingly vague as he was, Shacklebolt had at least made one thing clear, and that was that Sirius was on the right path. Something told him that Remus was totally ignorant to his best friend’s attempts at warning Sirius off of him, too, and that he said more than he meant to. A flicker of triumph spurred him to quicken his pace throughout the quiet corridors.

He ignored the Fat Lady’s protests as he shoved through the portrait door and took the steps to his dormitory three at a time in single-minded determination. The three books were retrieved from their place under his bed and dusted off. Sirius found his list in the drawer of his bedside table and crawled into the four-poster, unfolding the parchment and smoothing it out beside the tomes in front of him.

If James and Peter noticed something odd about him when they returned from class - which, they certainly must have, as Sirius could barely be bothered to read academic texts for an assignment, let alone his own pleasure - neither said a word. They allowed him his silence and solitude, and had Sirius even registered that his friends had entered the room, he would have been grateful.

\--

“I think I buggered something up.”

Kingsley dropped his book bag onto the ground beside Pandora with a groan. He remained standing, peering down at her with dark, troubled eyes, and even had he not said a word Pandora would have known something was bothering him. She drew up her knees to allow him room beneath the beech tree she had been studying under and waited until he sat to beg the question:

“Why do you think that?”

His jaw clenched and unclenched several times, tongue and teeth working around the words he struggled with behind tightly pursed lips. Pandora watched in schooled calm, but she couldn't help her curiosity and asked, again, “What makes you think that?”

“It's complicated. I think I've just made things worse by telling you,” he replied with a grimace.

Pandora’s encouraging smile turned wry. “I think you've forgotten; you haven’t told me anything.”

The frustration was evident on Kingsley’s face and Pandora wondered briefly if she had said the wrong thing, if she had misjudged their burgeoning friendship and wounded Kingsley’s pride in some way, but then he sighed casted her an apologetic smile, and Pandora knew she was forgiven.

“I think I gave away too much information about a secret that isn't mine to tell.” There was another long pause while he gathered his thoughts, but Pandora didn't push this time. “Remus is going to kill me when he finds out.”

“He might be angry,” Pandora considered, “but I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Eventually.”

With a great huff, Kingsley laid down and kicked his feet out so they rested adjacent to her own, nearly close enough to touch, and Pandora resisted the urge to rest a comforting hand on his knee. He sighed, again, “ _ Fuck. _ I’m the worst friend in the  _ world. _ ”

“Merlin, you're melodramatic. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“ _ Excuse  _ me? I have  _ never- _ ”

Pandora laughed at the indignant look on Kingsley’s face, and she felt him relax as she finally gave in to the temptation to touch him. They remained like that for the rest of their free period, Pandora’s hand on his knee and Kingsley growing visibly calmer the longer they laughed. If Kingsley minded the contact, he didn’t move to free himself of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Callipygian (adj): having well-shaped buttocks


	10. The Shrieking Shack

~~_ Common Welsh Green - XXXXX _ ~~

~~_ Hidebehind - XXXX _ ~~

_ Werewolf - XXXXX _

 

Sirius had been staring at the list for hours.

Nearly a month of researching and meddling in business that wasn’t his own had led him to this moment, and he should have felt more satisfaction at crossing all but one creature off his list. But, instead, all he felt was a queasy dread in the pit of his stomach, hoping desperately he was wrong.

It was certainly possible he  _ was  _ wrong. He was a poor student with above average intelligence - it wasn't bragging if it was true - and little to no academic discipline. There were a million things he could have missed while studying the three beasts, and it could have been that he’d misjudged them completely from the beginning and left out the real culprit from his list of possibilities at the start. It could have been a Kelpie or a Blast-Ended Skrewt for all Sirius knew, and he had dismissed them almost immediately, due in part to their not being  _ cool enough _ to do such damage. At this point, he wished it  _ had  _ been a Kelpie or a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Anything would have been better than a werewolf.

Sirius hadn't come to this conclusion lightly, and for the last week he had been trying very hard to ignore every indicator that the half-man, half-wolf variety of creature was the real culprit behind Remus’ attack. But, the little that was documented on werewolves and their behaviors all but screamed that Remus Lupin had been torn to shreds by a shifted werewolf exactly one month prior. He couldn't ignore the similarities for long.

Perhaps the funniest part about the whole thing - not that there was much humor in it to begin with - was that Remus had been the one to help uncover it in the end.

\--

Having grown weary of reading in the common room or in his bed, where friends and Housemates would notice and bring attention to how odd it was for him to be studying, Sirius retreated to the Quidditch pitch. It was Tuesday and no House teams had booked the pitch for practice, and so he knew it would be relatively private. He took a cursory glance to ensure he was alone before taking the steps two at a time up into the stands.

There were sometimes couples that hid among the raised seats, getting into what McGonagall referred to scathingly as “tomfoolery” and James lovingly referred to as “rumpy pumpy”, but often all it took was stomping up the wooden stairs to scare them three feet apart, and the stands were all one’s own as they scampered off. Sirius knew this from experience, as both participant and accidental voyeur, and so he stomped up the steps as was custom and waited for the telltale sound of gasps and cursing. It never came, though, and so Sirius assumed he was well and truly alone.

He was surprised, then, to find Remus staring directly at him as he surfaced from the narrow stairwell and into the open stands.

“Either you've the trod of an elephant or you were trying to bring the whole section down,” Remus quipped, one brow raised. He was sitting with his robes bunched up between his shoulder blades to make leaning against the bench behind him more comfortable, and his feet kicked up on the seat below him. A book sat open in his lap, held in place with one pale, scarred hand. He didn't move or betray his typical nervousness as Sirius wound his way through the staggered benches and came to stand beside him. Rather, he looked tired but intrigued.

“I had to be sure there were no scamps up to any frisky business,” Sirius explained, sitting down without invitation. “It appears I had no reason to worry, unless you have a bird hidden somewhere around here.”

Remus tore his gaze away from him and swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Wouldn't dream of it. This is hardly a romantic place for a secret rendezvous, I’d think.”

“‘Secret rendezvous’? Merlin, what time period are you from?” Laughing, Sirius almost forgot that Remus had been actively avoiding him in the week and a half since the Second Great Library Incident, that the Ravenclaw’s guard dog had cornered him in the hallway and threatened his safety should he so much as breathe the same air. Like this, with Remus scowling at him after an attempt at levity, Sirius felt like they were picking up where they left off. Sirius could have even forgotten the books weighing heavily in his bag and the half-formed theories in his head should he not have seen the scars up close. “No one calls it that, Remus.”

“Pardon me for trying not to be  _ crude,  _ like some people I know.”

“ _ Oi!  _ I’ll have you know I am a gentleman. And besides, there’re many people who’d beg to differ. This is a very romantic spot, otherwise so many couples wouldn't be up here fucking nearly every evening.”

Remus sputtered in indignation, and Sirius let out a triumphant peal of laughter. He wasn't imagining the embarrassed blush blooming across Remus’ cheeks and neck, and that only made him laugh harder.

“You are insufferable,” Remus muttered, refusing to meet his eye as he dog-eared the page of his book and sat it aside. Obviously, he wasn’t too perturbed by Sirius’ presence.

“Oh, come off it,” Sirius urged between chuckles, “you know you like me.” Growing quiet, Remus refused to deign that statement with an answer, which Sirius took as a clear sign that he was right and he pressed on, “Or at least, I thought you liked me. I thought we were sort of friends, actually. But you've been avoiding me very well the last few days. That could hurt a weaker man’s feelings.”

For a moment, Sirius thought Remus might ignore that implied question as well, as silence stretched on between them, but then Remus sighed and turned to face him. He opened his mouth and an abortive sound escaped him, like he was trying to come up with the right thing to say and couldn't find the words, and then tried again a moment later, slower and more deliberate, brow tightened in concentration.

“I wasn't...I didn't mean to do it, not intentionally,” he began. “I've been distracted.”

“Distracted,” Sirius repeated.

“Yes.” Licking his lips, Remus nodded. “Um, homework and exams and such. And my mother, erm, she's unwell.”

“Your mother?” Sirius wondered if a Mimicking Charm had been cast on him when he wasn't looking.

Another nod. “She's been sick for a long time. I'm going home to visit her this weekend, actually. That's where I go, um, sometimes.”

Sirius tried to think back to what he knew of Remus before, and realized he didn't know much. He had never paid much attention to the Ravenclaw prior to this term, and he hadn't made an effort to know anything about the boy aside from the secret he kept so closely guarded to his chest. He had no idea that Remus’ mother was sick or that Remus left school grounds outside of normally scheduled trips or holidays. A pang of guilt struck him. And to think, he’d been accusing Remus of unfriendly conduct.

“I didn't know that,” Sirius admitted, thinking of his own mother. He wondered what it was like to actually like the people you were related to. “Are you very close to her?”

“I am.”

An awkward, tense sort of silence fell over them and Sirius didn't know what to say, or how to change the conversation without doing it insensitively. He pondered over what other information he might not have known about the boy when Remus cleared his throat noisily.

“Did you finish that assignment? The one you had all those books for?” Remus asked.

_ Interesting.  _ “Not quite. I'm having a difficult time with it, actually,” Sirius admitted slowly, watching Remus shift in his seat.

“What class is it for?”

“Care of Magical Creatures,” Sirius lied. That was one of the few classes he did not share with Remus, and so it was plausible he had an assignment on dangerous creatures to complete. He figured Remus couldn't call him on the lie without giving away that he’d been asking around about it. “We have to write a paper on a Dangerous Beast with a high Ministry classification.”

“And so you're writing a paper on three? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the assumption that you only did enough of your schoolwork to scrape by.”

Sirius scoffed. “I'll have you know that I perform exceptionally well on exams, thank you very much. That's all that's important, anyways. Everything else is busy work.”

Remus rolled his eyes like he wanted to argue, but instead bent his head forward to indicate Sirius to continue his explanation, and so he did.

“I'm trying to decide between the three,” Sirius explained, “but I'm having a difficult time choosing. Dragons are obviously a pretty popular choice, but Hidebehinds and werewolves seem like they'd be interesting. I don't know much about either, though, so I'd be starting from scratch. It’d be more work.”

Appearing to be contemplating what he'd said, Remus nodded slowly and kept his gaze averted from Sirius' own. He made a humming noise while he decided on what to say, only speaking when Sirius gently poked him in the side, causing him to start and purse his lips in admonition. "I don't know much about Hidebehinds, but I can tell you that most of what you read about werewolves will only be half-true," he finally said.   
  
Sirius' brow rose. "Oh? Why is that?"   
  
"Werewolves are intentionally misunderstood," Remus explained with his own brow raised to mimic Sirius'. "We’re so prejudiced against them that most of what's documented is false, or explained inaccurately. We don’t want to understand because we want to hate them."   
  
A cool autumn breeze wafted through the stands and Sirius shuffled closer to the other boy beside him for warmth. He was surprised when all Remus did was fidget, elbow brushing elbow, and not move further away.   
  
They sat in silence for a moment longer until Sirius asked, “Isn’t that unfair?"   
  
“ _ ‘Unfair’? _ ” He scoffed. “They’re bloody monsters; what do people care if they’re misinformed so long as they’re safe? They  _ hurt people. _ ” Remus’ mouth twisted into an ugly grimace that made his amber eyes glint with something sharp, like spite, like he was daring him to disagree, and warped the scars running along his cheek.

Sirius frowned, reminded of the way his mother would talk about werewolves and other sentient magical beasts.  _ Half-breeds, _ she called them. “You don’t really believe that, do you? That they’re monsters?” he pressed, watching Remus’ reaction carefully.

Some of the tension in the other boy’s shoulders left him and his expression turned to one of disbelief, exhaustion making him look oddly sad. “You don’t?”

“No,” Sirius replied, “they’re just cursed. They can’t help it that they turn into a raging Beast once a month. They didn’t ask for the Bite.”

“Some of them like it. Some of them purposefully hurt people because of it.”

Shrugging, Sirius turned away from Remus’ beseeching gaze and said, “So? Ordinary wizards do the same. Slytherin is full of them, and you don’t see the Ministry slapping them with a high classification and snapping their wands.”

An odd, uncomfortable sort of hush fell over them and slowly Remus deflated, tearing his gaze away from Sirius and curling in on himself. He was embarrassed, Sirius thought, and he didn’t hide it very well. A flush had crept up his neck and tinged his pale cheeks, contrasting harshly with the dark circles under Remus’ eyes, and he pointedly looked down at his hands clenched in his lap, ignoring the side glances Sirius threw him.

“You never did tell me what gave you those scars.”

Remus twisted to look at him, shocked. “What?”

“Your scars. You said a kneazle did it, but I don’t believe it for a second.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because without warning the Ravenclaw stood from his seat, spine straight and chest puffed out, and tried to push past Sirius to leave. Sirius reacted quickly, sticking his legs out to block off the narrow walkway between benches and Remus huffed in frustration.

“Merlin, mate,  _ calm down!  _ I was just asking a question; I didn’t mean to set you off,” Sirius scowled. “I was only curious.”

“Yes, well, it isn’t any of your business,” the tawny-haired boy answered gruffly, shoving at Sirius’ legs to let him pass. It didn’t phase Sirius in the slightest. This was not his only option, however, and Remus began to climb over the seats. He paused when Sirius took hold of his wrist.

“Hey, I’m sorry!” Remus refused to face him, but he hadn’t fought Sirius’ grip, so that was encouraging. Sirius went on, “I won’t ask again. I mean it.”

After contemplating it for a moment, Remus finally nodded and Sirius let go of him. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he pled, voice quiet. “Whatever you think you know, please don’t say anything.”

Sirius blinked. Was that an admission? But an admission of what? Sirius didn’t really know anything, not yet. But he had his suspicions now, after all of this, and he thought that must have been what he was referring to. “Of course, Remus. I’d never.”

“Thank you.” With a resolute nod that seemed more for his own sake than Sirius’, Remus trod carefully towards the rickety steps, and disappeared down the narrow stairwell that led to the grounds. Sirius watched him until he’d fully vanished from sight and then when he reemerged at the side of the pitch, glancing back at the stands a handful of times as he headed for the castle.

Sirius remained in the stands for a long time afterwards, until the sun began to set and a breeze kicked up his too-long hair, tickling his nose and reminding him that summer was long gone. He shivered, but wasn't entirely sure if it had to do with the chill of the wind or the slow certainty that had seeped into his bones since Remus left him.

It didn't take too long to piece it together after that.

\--

Sirius returned the books on Common Welsh Greens and Hidebehinds and checked out every book the library had on werewolves the next day. Madam Pince eyed him suspiciously as she scribbled his name in her ledger, obviously distrustful after all the times the Marauders had set off dungbombs and firecrackers in her sanctuary, but handed them over regardless. Sirius didn't thank her, just made a show of nearly dropping them in front of her as he left, and hurried on to class.

“Merlin, Sirius, do you have the whole library in your bag?” James remarked when Sirius dumped everything out of it later that day.

On his mattress, seven books lay in a heap that would have sent Madam Pince into hysterics, as well as a handful of broken quills, two wrapped licorice wands, and a Sneakoscope that Sirius had stolen from Peter over the summer. James and Sirius stood on either side of the bed and inspected the pile.

James reached for a licorice wand and made a show of unwrapping it. “Am I to assume this has to do with you-know-what?”

“Yep.”

“Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it,” James huffed, tearing a piece of candy off savagely. “I’ll be taking  _ this  _ as payment for my silence.”

Sirius hid the Sneakoscope in his bedside table (Peter still didn’t know that Sirius had been the one to take it, blaming James for the thievery), dumped the broken quills in the rubbish bin, and settled in to begin his reading. He piled the books up according to thickness, starting with the smallest of the seven.

It became glaringly obvious that Remus had been right - the foreword of the first book described werewolves as “mindless, terrific beasts” that were set to overthrow civilized society in Great Britain and replace it with one of barbarism and horror. Werewolves, according to Burdock Muldoon, ceased being man the moment the bite took. “Wizards are not to be fooled,” Muldoon wrote. “Werewolves may wear the face of a man in the sun, but they are dangerous Beasts through and through, and will not rest until they’ve devoured us all.”

Sirius couldn’t even finish the foreword before he resolutely snapped it shut and threw it onto the floor. The next three books were similar to the first, raving with conspiracy one moment and declaring werewolves feral and brainless the next. One extremist proposed that all witches and wizards turned should have their wands snapped as punishment for their new state, as though they’d had a choice in the matter. Another posited that anyone who survived the attack of a werewolf, only to turn into one themselves, held some inherent evil in their blood that allowed them to live through it.

It was all bollocks, as far as Sirius was concerned, and sounded oddly similar to the rants of his mother.

He’d nearly given up on finding anything to help him until he opened the fourth book to a random page in the middle, tired of bigoted forewords that served as a platform for self-righteous rambling, and read something that sounded legitimate.

_ For centuries, werewolves have been banished by Wizarding society as Creatures of Evil and Darkness. But, what is largely unknown to most contemporary witches and wizards, is that werewolves were once prized members of several Ancient communities. Before Christianity was brought to Ireland, the pagans of the Isle regarded werewolves as guardians and protectors of their villages and castles. Families felt safer knowing their village was blessed with a werewolf and celebrations were given in the local werewolves’ honor annually to thank them for their protection. It was viewed as a blessing to survive the bite, and many young, abile warriors offered themselves up for the bite voluntarily. _

The author went on to describe other communities that regarded the Beasts favorably, and Sirius wondered what his mother would think if she’d known the half-breeds she hated would have outranked her a thousand years ago. This chapter encouraged Sirius, and he continued reading.

_ It is unknown whether or not the “curse” is passed through the offspring of werewolves. There are no recorded cases of such, so the Magical community is left to theorize if children of werewolves are born with wolfish character traits or the ability to shift at the full moon. _

_ However, there are a handful of cases that illustrate two shifted werewolves are capable of conceiving something rather strange, by our standards. If these shifted werewolves mate under a full moon, the female gives birth to a litter of wolf cubs. These wolves are not ordinary animals. They possess a human-level intelligence and grow to become extraordinarily beautiful creatures. Such a happenstance has only been recorded thrice in recent history, but it is said that one of these packs resides in the Forbidden Forest of Hogsmeade Village and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Rumors state that Albus Dumbledore gave the pack permission to make the Forest their home during his first year as Headmaster of Hogwarts. Students often report hearing howling on full moons from time to time. _

Sirius turned the page and felt disappointment well up in him when the chapter ended without further mention of this supernatural wolf pack. How many of them were there? Were they aggressive? If they bit someone, could they turn them? He flipped through the rest of the book, hopeful the author might bring the pack up again, but there was nothing except more history and purported superstitions. It was interesting, certainly, but it didn’t answer of his questions.

The book soon found itself with the others on the floor.

It was at this time that Frank, Peter, and James had all returned to the dormitory with full stomachs and raucous laughter, and beseeched Sirius to join them in a game of Exploding Snap before bed. He blinked and realized his eyes were sore and his stomach gurgled in protest at being ignored, and quickly acquiesced. The remaining three books could wait until he terrorized Peter into quitting and snuck down to the kitchens for a late dinner. Besides, he didn't need much more convincing. He was just adding evidence to his case at this point.

\--

The next few days were spent with James and Peter pointedly ignoring how strange Sirius was acting - James had told Peter he’d throw him to the squid if he mentioned Sirius’ reading, bless him - and Sirius pretending that he was, for once, studying for school. For the next two days, he read during class and whatever free time he could scrape together between Quidditch practice and meals, and he learned more about the types of injuries werewolves could inflict without biting someone, and how they never fully healed. He looked at Remus in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms and Potions, and it made him indignant and angry that the boy would bear those marks forever.

Honestly, Sirius had forgotten all about the potion until James cornered him in the Common Room Thursday afternoon. “I know you've been busy  _ doing research- _ ” James said this like it was dirty, and Sirius thought it was, “-but it's all hands on deck tomorrow.”

When Sirius remained silent, obviously clueless, his friend groaned. “The potion? Honestly, Sirius, where is your head? Don't answer that - we know it's been up your arse.” Dragging his fingers through his hair, James sighed, “Tomorrow’s the full moon, you know?”

Yes, Sirius knew, but not for the reason James remembered.

“We’ve got to add Dumbledore’s hair to the potion, but Peter  _ lost  _ the one we nabbed from his chair in the Great Hall, and now we've got to get another,” James explained, casting a derisive look in Peter’s direction, who was curled up in the armchair opposite of them.

“You should've known better to trust Peter with that, mate. That's entirely on you,” Sirius said and smirked when Peter gave him the bird.

“Yes, well, you would have been entrusted with the task, but you've been preoccupied  _ studying  _ like a ninny and dishonoring the Marauder name.”

“ _ I  _ study!” Peter whined.

“That's because you're stupid, Pettigrew!” Marlene yelled from the opposite side of the room, obviously not as engrossed in her copy of  _ Witch Weekly  _ as they’d thought. (Sirius hadn't been there, but the day prior Marlene had caught Peter flirting with a Hufflepuff and whatever chance he had at making it with her was snuffed out immediately. Peter had been sulking ever since.)

Ignoring her, James went on, “We have to find another hair, but I don't trust any old, white hair we find laying around. We’ll have to break into his office to get one.”

“Y’know, do you ever think that if we just  _ asked  _ Albus for a hair, he’d give one to us?” Sirius mused aloud. “Not that I don't fancy sneaking into the Headmaster’s office, but you have to wonder if we’re complicating things a bit.”

“ _ I think, _ ” James’ voice rose an octave, “that you're growing soft with old age, and I don't recognize a Sirius Black that does not tremble with excitement at the prospect of breaking into a teacher’s office.”

Well, Sirius thought, he had a point. Without further argument, he conceded and promised James he’d stand guard outside of Dumbledore’s office while James plucked a hair from his desk chair. It wasn't the smartest idea any of them had had, but it had always been more about the excitement and prospect for trouble, anyways.

\--

The following night, James held Sirius to his promise and dragged him out of the dormitory before it had even grown dark. It was just as well because Sirius had finally finished the last book he’d checked out, and his mind was swimming with thoughts of gruesome claws and teeth. Whoever had illustrated the tome must have had a vivid imagination, or an unfortunate encounter with a shifted werewolf. The thought of those claws tearing at his face made Sirius shudder, and he couldn't help but think sadly of Remus.

“Why are we doing this so early?” Peter whined as they left the Common Room and the weekend raucous behind.

James punched the shorter boy in the arm. “Because Dumbledore left school grounds after supper and we have to add that hair before the moon rises. Have you not been paying any attention?”

Peter hadn't, adept at tuning James out after years of singing Lily Evans’ praises, and said as much, which granted him another blow to the arm.

The Gargoyle Corridor was located on the third floor, and thus not a quick walk from Gryffindor Tower. James kept their pace up as they jumped from moving staircase to moving staircase, and then through a series of hallways that the three boys knew well from years of visiting the Headmaster’s office. The walls were lit by magical torches and suits of armor stood at attention between every sconce. Occasionally, a portrait broke the mundanity of the decor, but altogether the corridors were very nondescript by Hogwarts’ standards. It wasn't until they turned a corner where high, narrow windows lined one side and tapestries the other that they had reached their destination.

At the end of this hall, before veering off into crumbling stairwell, a stone gargoyle sat on a pedestal and kept watch over the students and faculty that traveled through the corridor. To any first years or persons well-behaved, it might have seemed like another disturbingly detailed sculpture to rival the one-eyed witch by the stairs to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. But, to the Marauders, who had been in trouble more times than they could count, they knew it as the entrance to Dumbledore’s office.

“How will we get in?” Peter asked as they drew closer to the gargoyle, eyeing the thing like it might come to life any moment and spit at him.

Shrugging, James said, “I know the password. I was called up here the other day for turning the skeletons pink in DADA.”

Incredulous, Peter turned his gaze on him. “And you didn’t get the hair  _ then?  _ What’s wrong with you?”

“Cadbury Creme Egg!” James exclaimed, choosing to ignore Peter’s questioning glare and clapping when the gargoyle dutifully sprung to life. The statue slid aside and a circular, moving stone staircase was made visible. “Right, Peter and I will go up and get the hair, and you’ll stand guard out here, yeah? If someone makes to go up while we’re inside, distract them,” James insisted, and Sirius nodded. It was the least he could do after being relatively absent for the last few weeks.

James and Peter started up the staircase and the gargoyle slid back into place, leaving Sirius alone in the hall. He took up his post against the wall, close to the stairwell to give him an advantageous view of both ends, and settled in. Beside him was a window, and he occupied himself with peering through it.

Below, he could see the school grounds and Forbidden Forest east of the castle, as well as the gravel path that led from the entrance hall to the front gates. In the distance, the Whomping Willow stood among small hills and rocks, deceivingly peaceful with nothing nearby to threaten it. Sirius hadn’t thought anyone would be lingering outside with the light dwindling and temperatures dropping as they were, and so it caught him by surprise to see two figures departing the castle and heading out into the grounds.

Both figures were cloaked, but from where Sirius watched he saw that only one of them had raised their hood. The taller of the two had wild, tawny hair and walked slowly, grasping onto the other person’s proffered arm and struggling over the uneven ground. Sirius thought that maybe the tall one was a man, judging by the broad shoulders and shorter haircut, and squinted to see them more clearly, the silhouette oddly familiar.

The man tripped and turned his face, grabbing hold of the other person before colliding with the ground, and Sirius knocked his nose against the glass when he leaned forward too quickly to see it. He knew that silhouette because he’d stared at it for the last four weeks unashamedly, and even from three stories up, he could see the stark contrast of angry, pink scars against pale skin.

Remus righted himself with help from the other figure - Sirius supposed it was a teacher escorting him to the train - and they continued on their way. Sirius expected them to walk onto the path some yards away and head straight for the iron gates, but they went straight towards the treeline instead.

_ Where is Remus going?  _ Sirius thought, eyes fixed on the retreating figures.  _ Hogsmeade is the other way. _

Sirius was almost certain that Remus had said he’d be visiting his mother that weekend, due to her illness, and it stood to reason that he would venture into Hogsmeade to catch the last train to Kings Cross Station. Or, if it was truly dire, one of the few fireplaces hooked up to the Floo Network in the castle could take him home. So, it made absolutely no sense that a member of faculty was ushering Remus across the grounds and towards the Forbidden Forest instead.

He made up his mind then to follow them. James and Peter would be alright without him and maybe, if he explained it right, James would understand why he abandoned his post. He spared no time lingering in the window and ran for the crumbly staircase a few meters away, taking the steps two at a time and careening around the corner the moment his feet touched the ground floor. There was an archway that led out into a courtyard smaller and more secluded than the main one near the Great Hall, surrounded by a copse of tall pines that only broke near the castle wall, where a narrow path led down to the larger clearing. Sirius followed this path, careful not to trip on the stones embedded in the soggy earth and held his breath the further down he went. There were large rocks situated at the end of the path whenever Sirius eventually emerged from it, and he bolted for the furthest one, crouching low to remain hidden as he peeked out from behind it. He felt his stomach drop when he looked out towards the treeline where he could have  _ sworn  _ the two were heading and saw only trees and bushes.

_ Wait- _

Sirius caught sight of them, but they weren’t anywhere near the Forest, like Sirius had expected. They were frozen just beyond the furious reach of the Whomping Willow, the wretched tree swinging its branches like whips as it sensed their approach. Remus stood frozen just beyond reach and waited, planted in that spot while the other cloaked figure began inching away from Remus’ side and dodged wild branches and stepped deftly over roots until they stood a good distance away. If Remus was standing directly in front of the tree, the teacher was standing directly to the left of it, like they were just outside of an invisible barrier drawn around the tree’s circumference.

The teacher stepped forward, past that invisible line, and Sirius was  _ certain  _ that the tree would take notice, but its focus was situated entirely on Remus and it continued to thrash in his direction. It was like the tree had a blind spot and this person knew how to exploit it, continuing to move towards the trunk confident and unencumbered while Remus kept it distracted.

A hand reached out from beneath the cloak and found a small knot at the base of the tree, a detail Sirius had never noticed, and it was like the Whomping Willow had been hit with  _ petrificus totalus.  _ And, for all Sirius knew, it had been. It gave a great shudder, divesting itself of some of its leaves, before holding itself completely, eerily still. The tree didn’t react at all when Remus finally broke his position and clambered over the uneven earth to where the teacher stood waiting. It still didn’t react when the teacher rested a hand on Remus’ back and guided him into a hole in the ground, right at the base of the trunk where Sirius had never thought to look, and then followed.

“What the  _ bloody hell, _ ” Sirius breathed, feeling secure enough to straighten and crane his head for a better look at the tree. It sat frozen for another fifteen seconds - Sirius counted - before gradually coming back to life, leaves trembling and branches flicking about like the tail of an idle cat, waiting to perform its violent duty should someone get too close again.

If there was one thing that Sirius was certain of after witnessing this - and there truly wasn’t much at this point - it was that Remus was not going home to visit his mother.

The sun had already begun its descent when the Marauders crept out of the common room, and so it was growing darker the longer he waited behind the rock. He had to squint to see the base of the tree clearly, too far away to see every detail, and he felt foolish for not grabbing James’ Invisibility Cloak before they left Gryffindor Tower. He might have been able to follow them down into the passageway had he brought it. But, even as he was gathering the courage to make a mad dash for the Willow, resigned that this was his only option should he want to pursue Remus, someone had emerged from the hole in the ground and reached around the trunk to tap the knot. As before, the tree quivered to a stop and allowed the teacher to walk out of its reach without harm. The teacher did not spare the tree another glance when it came back to life a few short moments later, and Sirius realized with a start that they were heading straight for the crop of rocks that Sirius was hiding behind.

He crept around the side of the rock where he hoped he couldn’t be seen, and held his breath while Madam Pomfrey walked past, close enough for Sirius to finally see her face under the cloak. She didn’t spare her surroundings a second glance as she hurried up the path towards the school, ignorant of the Gryffindor’s presence so closeby.

She disappeared into the copse of pines and Sirius counted to thirty before springing from his hiding place.

Panting, Sirius ran for the Whomping Willow and watched in abject horror and fascination as the tree gave no warning and began swinging its branches wildly. He was despaired to realize he had been too far away to accurately judge the distance Madam Pomfrey and Remus had kept from the tree, and without even trying he’d passed that invisible line.

“ _ Fuck! _ ” Sirius hissed, and ducked before one of said branches clobbered him in the skull. He’d gotten too close, trying to find the blind spot that Madam Pomfrey had easily found before, momentum carrying him forward. He tried again, lunging to the side, but the tree still swung at him like he was coming at it with fire, like it was fighting for its life. Breathless, Sirius took another step in the direction he thought he’d seen the woman go, but it was to no avail. The tree knew he was there and it would not rest until he was flattened against the earth.

There was no hope of finding the sweet spot that made Sirius invisible to the monstrous thing, and so all that was left was to dodge and run.

A particularly thick branch came hurtling in his direction and Sirius nearly tripped over a root trying to dodge it. He righted himself and scrambled over another root, cursing loudly when a smaller, whippier branch caught him in the face. His cheek stung but he continued on, the knot that immobilised the thing within sight and giving him enough hope to spur him into action. Before another blasted branch careened into his side, Sirius lunged for the thing and his fingers caught on the rough bark. Like magic, the tree stopped fighting him.

Sirius straightened his spine and stared incredulously up at the Willow, sparing a quick moment to revel in his victory before finding the passageway Remus had slipped into, and following suit.

The hole led into a tunnel, dug some time ago with dirt-packed walls and a low ceiling, just short enough that Sirius had to crouch to walk without his head brushing the top. There was no light, no torches held in ancient sconces like the hallways of the castle, and so Sirius grasped for his wand and cast a quiet  _ lumos.  _ The pale, blue light brought everything into focus and for the first time Sirius allowed himself to ponder the implications of all of this while he followed the tunnel.

Remus had been attacked by a werewolf, Sirius was almost certain of it now. He shuddered thinking about it, remembering that morning and the blood that covered Remus’ face and chest. It should have been obvious then what had done that to him, after all the reports in  _ The Daily Prophet  _ and the rumors circulating Wizarding London, that werewolves were joining ranks with Lord Voldemort and purposely hurting innocent people. He had read somewhere that there were packs of werewolves gathered up in the Highlands, secluding themselves from civilizations and growing feral. It would have been easy for one to venture too far on a full moon, to have found him- or herself in the Forbidden Forest. It would have been easy to pick out the human wandering too close to the treeline and flown on instinct, clawing and snapping at the first prey it’d really taken an interest in that night.

Merlin, the image his mind conjured made Sirius sick.

It was still all conjecture, he reminded himself. There was no telling who had attacked Remus that night or why. And there was no telling if Remus had been bitten.

Sirius came to a stop, his light bringing into view the end of the tunnel where a wooden set of steps led up to a trap door, the ceiling finally giving way to a height that allowed Sirius to straighten his spine. He couldn't be certain how far away he’d ventured from school grounds, but the walk had not been a short one and he thought about the hidden passageway that led from the castle to Honeyduke’s.

Steeling himself, Sirius took a deep breath and stepped forward, bracing his arms against the dirt walls close on either side. The stairs were steep and at the top of them was a trapdoor with a sliding lock. Sirius contorted himself to press as close to the top of the stairwell as possible, within reach of the lock, and pointed his wand at it. “ _ Alohomora, _ ” he said and it gave a satisfying click. Sirius wasted no time in sliding the bolt and pushing the door open.

Beyond the door was a dilapidated room of a house. Everything was grey and drab, from the peeling paint on the walls and the splintered hardwood floors covered in muck and dust. There was a chair upturned in the corner of the room with two of its legs missing, the stubs jagged like they had been gnawed off, and a light fixture above Sirius’ head was hanging by a few exposed wires and missing all of its bulbs. It was impossible to tell what kind of room this might have once been, with only a decrepit chair and sad light fixture to judge it by, but it was small enough to remind Sirius of his mother’s drawing room. He climbed out of the passageway and shut the trapdoor with a quiet  _ thump. _

Beyond the open doorway at the opposite end of the room, a hallway led to several other rooms that Sirius supposed were just as ramshackled as the one he’d entered, if the state of the corridor was anything to judge by. It smelled strongly of mildew and rotting wood and something much fouler the further Sirius ventured into the dark hall and, until he heard the cough at the very end of it, he’d nearly forgotten that he was supposed to be looking for Remus there.

_ What is he doing in this place? _

Sirius followed the sound to a closed door, the only one he passed that was shut. He could hear more coughing and muffled cursing when he pressed his ear to the wood, and he knew it was Remus’ voice. Without hesitation, he opened the door.

This room was furnished, at least. There was a mattress tearing at its seams in one corner and a pile of ragged blankets and quilts strewn across the foot of it and down onto the floor. A piano that was missing most of its keys stood at the other side of the room with the remains of a bench thrown under the belly of the instrument. Like the chair in the first room, the legs were missing and bite marks littered what was left of it. Great, jagged lines marred the surface of an upturned table some feet away from the piano, and Sirius realized the wall and floor were littered with smatterings of these markings, too. Something about them rung bells in Sirius’ head but he couldn't place it.

“Sirius? What are you doing here?”

Beneath a boarded up window, Remus had been sitting in a nest of tattered blankets. He scrambled to his feet when Sirius entered the room.

_ Oh.  _ The marks along the walls and the floor looked like the scars on Remus’ face, like a heavy paw had torn through wood as easily as it had through flesh. Revulsion churned Sirius’ stomach but his mind couldn't - refused to - put the pieces together.

“ _ Sirius, _ ” Remus said again, nearly tripping over his feet approaching him. He grasped at Sirius’ shoulders and Sirius faintly registered that Remus’ chest was bare; scars that looked years-old stretched from shoulder to hip, crisscrossing lines peppered his stomach. He looked like he’d been abused. Beneath all of the scars and bruises, though, there were freckles. “Sirius, you shouldn't be here! You have to leave!” Remus hissed and tried shoving Sirius back through the door.

It wasn't difficult to push back against him and Sirius shook his head. “I'm not going anywhere! What is this place, Remus? Why are you here?”

Remus looked stricken, amber eyes wide in disbelief. “You mean you don't know?” A startling, manic laugh escaped him. “You followed me here not knowing what you'd find? Are you an  _ idiot? _ ”

“What are you talking about? Remus, what's going on?”

“I'm-  _ agh! _ ” The taller boy groaned, recoiling from Sirius and curling in on himself. Sirius stepped forward to help, unsure what he’d even do but determined, and reached for him. His hands cupped either side of his face and tilted it up, as though by looking he could diagnose the problem.

Remus’ eyes were an eerie yellow, pupils dilated, and his skin was feverish. He leaned into Sirius’ touch, though, and whimpered, like he was in great pain, and the noise made Sirius’ heart ache. “ _ Please, _ ” Remus breathed, “you have to go.”

“I don't understand!” Sirius’ voice cracked.

If he wanted to respond, Remus couldn't. He tore himself away from Sirius with an earsplitting scream and turned so that Sirius couldn't see his face. The Gryffindor watched in horror as Remus’ rib cage snapped and expanded and his skin rippled, the columns of his spine popping out of place and rearranging themselves painfully, if Remus’ sobs were anything to go by. Sirius’ heartbeat was a deafening staccato in his ears and he stood frozen, like he’d been hit with a Full-Body Bind Curse.

Another scream pierced the air and Sirius suddenly felt himself being hauled backwards by heavy hands, gripping him under his arms and dragging him back the direction he’d come. The last glimpse of Remus he’d caught was of the orange-brown fur sprouting along the boy’s arms and legs, and the sickeningly sharp claws that had grown in place of his nails, and Sirius didn't think he’d ever be able to forget the sight.

Sirius faintly registered the sound of the trapdoor creaking open before he was thrown down into the tunnel, and then everything was dark. A familiar, gruff voice summoned a light and Kingsley Shacklebolt’s face came into grim focus above him. The Ravenclaw barked something, probably a threat, but Sirius couldn’t hear him over the panic welling up inside his head.

Remus Lupin hadn’t been attacked by a werewolf. _He was one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B)


	11. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/17/17 - Before you start reading and thinking that this chapter is oddly familiar, that's because it is.
> 
> I spent the last couple months revising the whole fic up until this point, mostly because I'm a masochist, but also because there were some things stylistically and plot-wise that were driving me insane. The plot hasn't changed, don't worry, but I've added a couple scenes here and there to fill in some holes, and revised the writing style in a lot of places. If you don't want to reread the whole thing to figure out where this new version diverges from the old, I don't blame you. Read the first and third chapters for the biggest changes.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me. I'm so sorry this isn't new content - I'm working on it, I promise! The revisions just needed to be made before we got too far in.

Remus woke to the smell of blood and urine and the undeniable feeling that something was wrong.

He lay in a heap on the trapdoor, claw marks scorched deep in the wood, and every breath was agony. Pushing himself up was all but impossible with the pain - Merlin, he must have broken ribs if it was this bad - but he did his best to roll off of it, clenching his teeth and muttering curses as he did. He was glad Madam Pomfrey hadn’t come to fetch him yet, as she would have definitely scolded him for his language, unbearable suffering or not. She would have brought blankets, though, and Remus could have done with one of those. He ran warmer than most others, thanks to the curse, so it was only his dignity that suffered, at least. Perhaps he could pull himself up and hobble back to the bedroom, to see if his cloak was still in one piece.

It was while Remus laid on his back, staring up at the peeled ceiling and convincing himself that getting up couldn’t be  _ that  _ bad, that he recognized the familiar feeling of dread settling in.

Determined not to let Madam Pomfrey see him naked when she arrived, Remus rolled onto his side and tried to push himself up. His ribs were certainly broken, if the stabbing pain in his lungs was any indication, but his sense of modesty won out in the end and he somehow managed to get to his feet. He took wobbling steps until he reached the exit of the dim room, and then crowded against the wall until he came to the bedroom at the end of the hallway.

Remus stood at the doorway and felt his heart jolt, like it remembered something his head hadn’t, looking into the room to find nothing out of place, nothing destroyed. His cloak remained on the floor where it had been shed, untouched. There were new marks around Remus’ feet where he stood, like he’d sprung from the bedroom like a bat out of hell after he’d shifted, and none of the furniture looked any worse than it had the night before. He didn’t think the wolf had been inside this room since the transformation, and a thought niggled at Remus’ head,  _ Not right, this isn’t right. _

A flash of something - a memory? - rang in his ears, asking,  _ “What are you doing here?” _

Distantly, Remus heard the latch of the trapdoor in the other room and the heavy  _ thump  _ of it opening. He knew it was Madam Pomfrey and he knew that he’d be embarrassed if she saw him like this, even if she’d seen it all before, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach for the cloak. He was frozen, confused and lightheaded, slid down to the floor when she found him.

“Oh- Mr. Lupin, you’re awake,” the matron said, surprised. She didn’t mention that Remus was clutching at his thighs so hard he would leave marks, nor did she seem to pay any mind to Remus’ state of undress. She ran her diagnostic spells in customary silence and asked him if any place in particular hurt -  _ everywhere _ \- and if he could stand -  _ yes, but it hurt like hell. _

Remus might have muttered something about his chest and his suspicions that he’d broken bones. Or, more likely with the blackness creeping around the edges of his vision, he said nothing, mouthing the words but soundless. That odd feeling persisted and he couldn’t focus on anything else, and he might have even said something to that effect, but Madam Pomfrey was looking down at him with more worry than she usually displayed, wand frozen in the air above his hammering heart. She pursed her lips like doing so would keep her words from tumbling out, and Remus knew then that he was right. Something was wrong, and Madam Pomfrey knew it, but she wasn’t going to tell him what it was. She was only there to mend his bones and soothe his pains.

“Come now, Mr. Lupin. Let me take a look at you and then we may go. You shouldn’t walk back to the castle in this state, if we can help it.” Madam Pomfrey’s wand was in motion again and Remus let her work in peace. If she caught on the uptick in his heartbeat or the nervous twitch of his fingers, she did not mention it.

\--

At some point, Madam Pomfrey must have administered a sedative, or Remus had fainted before they’d left the Shrieking Shack. He was tucked away in the corner of the Hospital Wing with a pounding headache and a stubborn memory that felt fuzzy around the edges -  _ he was sitting on top of his cloak, picking at the dirt under his fingernails...he heard a noise beyond the bedroom door...footsteps… _

Pain blossomed in Remus’ chest and he remembered the cracked ribs he’d suffered. His jaw clenched with the effort of not groaning out loud, not wanting to draw Madam Pomfrey’s attention.

A gentle cough sounded to Remus’ right. He couldn’t help the gasp of surprise that shot stars in his vision and he heard a familiar voice say, “I did not mean to startle you, my dear boy. My apologies.”

Professor Dumbledore stood out of arm’s reach from Remus’ bed, a soft, confusingly sad sort of smile beneath his white mustache. Remus thought of the last time he’d woken up in the Hospital Wing and the terrifying news the Headmaster had brought, and his stomach lurched at the implications of what this might mean. It seemed Dumbledore only ever thought to visit Remus in hospital when there was some difficult news that Remus needed hearing these days.

“Madam Pomfrey tells me you were awake when she came to fetch you this morning,” Dumbledore stated, floating down into the chair he’d conjured beside the bed. It was upholstered with purple velvet and golden studs, the most colorful thing in the room. Remus nodded. “That is quite an improvement over last month’s transformation, as painful as your injuries may be this morning.”

Remus supposed so, not aware of any new scars, but something in Dumbledore’s gaze kept him frozen, silent in his bed. This did not seem to bother the old man, because he continued on without prompting, “You were in an agitated state when you arrived here, however. Madam Pomfrey was concerned that you might have experienced a mental trauma.”

“Did I?” Remus croaked, throat sore and hoarse.

“I am afraid so, Mr. Lupin.” Pausing, Dumbledore reached a hand inside his indigo robes and pulled out a slim bar of Honeyduke’s Finest. His smile widened only a fraction at Remus’ wary gaze and he broke off a piece of chocolate, offering it to Remus before taking a piece for himself. They chewed in pregnant silence before Dumbledore finally spoke again, “There was an attack on a Wizarding family last night, and I left the castle the moment I heard of it to offer my assistance. It was, as I feared, the work of Lord Voldemort and his followers.”

Dread clenched Remus’ heart and the chocolate tasted like ash in his mouth. “Were they...was anyone hurt?”

“I am afraid so, Mr. Lupin.  _ The Daily Prophet  _ has begun publishing pictures of such scenes, so I believe you have seen the Dark Mark? It was found above this family’s home. Both husband and wife were Muggleborn, and worked for the Ministry.”

Dumbledore didn’t have to say outright they’d been killed. Enough stories like this one had made their way into the paper; Remus knew how it ended. It didn’t explain why the Headmaster was there, with him, though. The warning Dumbledore had imparted on him still rung in his ears, but this had nothing to do with him. It was, thankfully, not his family hurt.

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore said, “I tell you this because I was not on school grounds when something very dangerous occurred. I was called back just after night fell to deal with its repercussions.

“I feel that had I been here, I might have been able to keep it from happening, but it does not do to dwell on past mistakes that we cannot change. What  _ is _ important is the present, and how this situation will be handled now that is  _ has  _ happened.”

“And, what’s happened, sir? What does this have to do with me?”

Remus feared he knew the truth of it already when Dumbledore replied gravely, “I am afraid it has everything to do with you, my dear boy.”

\--

James was furious when Sirius slinked into the boys’ dormitory. The lights had been extinguished hours ago, Frank and Peter already asleep, but James was sitting on Sirius’ bed and staring right at him when he came through the door, like he’d been waiting for him the entire time. A wash of eerie, dim light from the window illuminated James’ face and Sirius saw, when he drew nearer, that James was scowling. His glasses were crooked on his nose and his hair looked like James had done nothing but tugged at it the past -  _ what was it?  _ \- five hours. It was nearly morning.

“Where did you go?”

Sirius knew that he’d seen James this angry before, but it was usually directed at other people - like Snivellus - not his best friend. It cut in a way Sirius was too drained to think about, not when he had just spent  _ five bloody hours  _ being yelled at and talked about like he wasn’t in the room by his Head of House and Headmaster, although it had been Professor McGonagall doing all of the yelling. When they’d finished, he had been sent to Madam Pomfrey for a once over, and he was certain she had kept him there longer than necessary to make him suffer. All he wanted was to lay in bed and think on his sins in peace.

“I asked you where you went, Sirius,” James ground out. Sirius didn’t realize he’d drifted off, and shook himself to focus again on his friend. He’d all but forgotten what they had set out to do that night until seeing the anger on James’ face.

“I...I abandoned my post,” Sirius said, like he’d only just realized.

“No  _ fucking  _ kidding! We came out of Dumbledore’s office and you’d disappeared!” hissed James, clambering up to his knees so he was eye-level with Sirius now. “Where the fuck did you go? You’ve been acting like a total  _ prick _ this whole term, and I thought it had to do with your parents so I let it go, but this is getting ridiculous! What’s happened to you?”

A snore ripped through the air and the boys tensed, reminded that they weren’t alone. Sirius rubbed at his face in the tense silence that followed, trying to think of something to explain what he’d done that didn’t give Remus away. His best friend was glaring at him and waiting, but Sirius wouldn’t be able to appease his anger. This wasn’t his secret to tell - Professor McGonagall had threatened a fate worse than death but he thought only of Remus’ face, how he might feel when he woke up the next morning and realized Sirius had discovered his secret. For some reason that made him sicker with apprehension than any of McGonagall’s threats did.

“Do you remember, when I told you there was something important I was looking into?” Sirius asked quietly. James nodded, mouth set in a tight line. “And I said, I’d tell you if it was really something, yeah? Well, it’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“‘Nothing,’” James repeated, brows furrowed. “You disappeared for  _ nothing? _ ”

“In my defense, I thought it was important at the time.”

James bristled. “More important than the Marauders? How could something  _ that _ important turn out to be nothing?” This conversation reminded Sirius of one they’d had weeks ago, but James was at the end of his patience and not so understanding. Sirius wondered how long James had taken issue with Sirius’ distraction and had merely put on a good face, content to wait this out until Sirius had come to his senses.

“I’m sorry, James. I didn’t-”

“No,” the other boy shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m mad at you, and I don’t care if you apologize or not.” He pushed past Sirius to get off the bed and clambered onto his own, scarcely a meter of carpet between them.

The room crackled and fizzled with James’ anger, rolling off of him in waves of tumultuous magic, and Sirius decided he’d escape to the bathroom to give James time to fall asleep or pull the curtains around his bed, or whatever it would take to settle the energy in the air. He was in desperate need of a wash, anyways. He hadn’t noticed until then that his clothes were caked with dirt or that his skin was coated in sweat and grime.

When Sirius returned from his shower, James was still awake but he looked less angry in the moonlight, more contemplative than was typical for him. He glanced at his friend as Sirius approached and took a breath to steady himself.

“You’ve been paying a lot of attention to that Ravenclaw,” James whispered. Sirius blinked, clutching tighter at the towel around his waist. “Reginald, is it?”

“Remus,” Sirius corrected without thinking.

“Er, right. This doesn’t, erm, have to do with him, does it?”

Sirius couldn’t bring himself to move, to say a word. He couldn’t believe James had figured it out - he hadn’t said a thing about him to any of his friends, had he? He’d been so good at keeping his notes hidden, at only talking to Remus when he was sure no one was watching-

“Mary said she saw you two go into an old classroom together and you’ve been staring after him  _ a lot,  _ and you’re hiding things from us,” James said this all in one breath, looking anywhere but at Sirius’ face. “I won’t- I mean, if you like him, like  _ fancy  _ him I wouldn’t judge you for it. I have an uncle in Leicester-”

Realization waded through his exhaustion and Sirius felt his face heat up with embarrassment at what James was implying. “Good Godric, James, that isn’t- what you’re saying is-”

“I’ve been thinking it over,” James continued on like Sirius hadn’t said a word, “and it makes sense, I think? I mean, you snogged Patty Jenkins  _ and  _ Celeste Ackworth last term but you haven’t paid attention to any birds since we got back - just that titchy Ravenclaw - and he is sort of, well, pretty, in a way a girl might be-”

“You’ve gone bonkers,” Sirius declared in as quiet a voice he could muster, turning his back on his breathless friend and rummaging through his trunk for clean bedclothes. When he’d finished changing and faced James again, James was looking at him funnily. “What?”

“Just because you’re snogging a bloke doesn’t make you any less my brother. You know that, don’t you? I’d never judge you for it.”

“Fucking hell,” Sirius breathed. His patience was thinner than James’ and he wasn’t going to have this conversation after the hell he’d put himself through that night. “I’m going to bed. You’re going to shut up about this and never mention it again.”

He didn’t bother telling James he was wrong, in no uncertain terms. He’d rather James think he’d blown them off for something so laughable as a romantic tryst than make Remus’ life any worse by telling him the truth. He’d already fucked up with Remus enough as it was.

Sirius couldn’t sleep, watching the sun rise just a few short hours later, wondering if Remus was already transformed back when Frank’s alarm pierced the quiet.

\--

Satisfied she had done all that she could for him, Madam Pomfrey released Remus just before supper.

Remus returned to Ravenclaw Tower on shaky legs and ignored the curious looks he received from his Housemates, who’d thought he was visiting his mother that weekend. Maybe the pallor of his skin or the expression of melancholy was enough to keep any one of them from asking how she was doing - “Madam Pomfrey suspects you will be released later this afternoon. You may wish to tell your friends your mother took a turn for the worst, and you returned early according to the Healer’s recommendation,” Professor Dumbledore had said, after he’d finished telling Remus the worst of it. Remus hadn’t said anything, but he could appreciate the wisdom of the lie, now. Luckily, no one seemed likely to force him to use it. It wasn’t as though many of them were friends enough to ask.

Kingsley was sitting in bed with a book open in his lap when Remus opened the dormitory door. His dark eyes immediately snapped up and he flung his book aside to rush Remus in the doorway. The tawny-haired boy tensed, expecting a collision, but Kingsley stopped just in front of him and gripped his shoulders with a manic look in his eyes. Behind him, the room was empty.

“Are you okay? Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t allow visitors-” Kingsley fussed.

“I’m fine.” That wasn’t entirely truthful, but Remus wasn’t ready to name whatever emotions he was feeling at the moment. And he didn’t want Kingsley to worry more than he already did. He knew that it was Kingsley who found Sirius in the Shrieking Shack and pulled him out before Remus could finish shifting.

“Professor Dumbledore told you what happened, didn’t he? He said he would when you were well enough to listen.”

Remus nodded. Kingsley released his hold on him and stepped back, allowing Remus to enter the room fully and shuffle to his made bed. He sat down on the edge and waited for his best friend to sit beside him before asking, “How did you know he was there? In the Shack?” Dumbledore hadn’t told him, the details seemingly unimportant, Sirius’ rescue the only pertinent information at the time.

“I was headed back to the Tower from practice,” Kingsley explained. “I saw him fighting off the Whomping Willow through a window on the fourth floor and I took off after him. By the time I got to the grounds, the Willow was calm again and he was nowhere to be seen. I had a bad feeling he’d somehow gotten past it, so I froze it and followed after him. You were- you were starting to shift when I got there.”

Remus had told Kingsley ages ago how to immobilize the Whomping Willow and how the tunnel below it led to the Shack. He was suddenly immensely glad he had, because Kingsley might not have known where Sirius was heading otherwise, might not have understood the danger. As mortified and fearful as he felt, he was at least relieved that Sirius hadn’t been killed. He had Kingsley to thank for that.

“So, he saw it? You both did?”

Expression grave, Kingsley nodded. Remus felt lightheaded.

“You...you looked like you were in a great deal of pain,” Kingsley continued. “Is it always like that?”

“Every time.”

Kingsley looked away, deep in thought, and Remus asked, “Have you seen him? Since you brought him to the Headmaster?”

“Black?” Dark brows furrowed, Kingsley shook his head, perhaps more in disbelief than an actual answer. Remus should have been furious with Sirius for following him, for putting them both in danger by doing so, and he was. But, beneath all of that, he couldn’t help but hope that Sirius didn’t hate him for what he was. He thought, before last night, Sirius wanted to be his friend. Now he wasn’t sure if it had been a plot or if he’d been genuinely interested in him. It hurt, all the same.

“We should go down to dinner,” Remus suggested when Kingsley didn’t say anything for a long while. He wasn’t hungry, but he wanted to see Pandora and he couldn’t stand to stay cooped up in the dormitory with Kingsley looking so worried.

“Are you sure? I can bring something back for you, if you want to stay and rest.”

_ “It would be very easy to hide, after last evening’s events,” Dumbledore had said, a comforting hand on his shoulder. “And I would not blame you. But, you will have to face what happened - and Mr. Black - eventually, and hiding will only prolong the inevitable.” _

“No.” Remus stood, thinking of Dumbledore’s advice and ignoring the twinge of pain the movement caused. He was terrified, but he didn’t want to let the Headmaster down, after he’d placed so much faith in him. “I don’t want to hide.”

\--

They entered the Great Hall and Remus immediately wished he had stayed behind. Students tended to filter in for meals later than normal on the weekend, with dining hours prolonged, so the four House tables weren’t nearly as full as usual. It was harder to go by unnoticed with fewer students to hide behind, and Remus purposely avoided looking at the Gryffindor table as Kingsley led him past.

Pandora was sitting at their usual spot and looked up from her novel with surprise when the two boys sat across from her. Her gaze flicked between them both in astonishment. “Oh! Remus, you’re back early,” she said. “Is your mum alright?”

The lie caught in Remus’ throat, but Kingsley coughed and gave a curt shake of his head, which made Pandora look more crestfallen than he could imagine her happy face possible of. Remus felt immensely guilty for the grief she felt for him.

Kingsley captured Pandora’s attention with a question about her book, and Pandora dragged her gaze off Remus reluctantly. He stabbed at a sausage link while they chatted, Pandora losing some of the sadness around her mouth the longer Kingsley distracted her with his interest, and Remus took the chance to glance around the Great Hall. The Gryffindor table was the most deserted of the House tables, with a few younger looking students gathered at one end, the rest of its benches empty. He was relieved, but couldn’t help the fluttering anxiety in his stomach. The longer he sat there with no sign of Sirius, the queasier he felt. Remus didn’t know what he dreaded more: avoiding him or confronting him.

“Excuse me.” Remus stood, jostling Pandora and Kingsley from their conversation. They both regarded him cautiously and Remus explained, “Toilet.” He hurried away before Kingsley could offer to go with him or Pandora could ask if he was alright. He just couldn’t sit there any longer, pretending that nothing was wrong.

He took a fortifying breath once outside the Great Hall and set off for the nearest boys’ bathroom. Maybe he’d lock himself in a stall for a few minutes until the nausea went away.

A few Hufflepuffs passed by him in the corridor, but otherwise it was blessedly empty, and he slipped into the bathroom, thinking it to be empty as well. He turned the tap on when he heard the toilet flushing.

Considering Remus’ shit luck, he should have known he wouldn’t be alone.

Remus cupped his hands beneath the running faucet and splashed his scarred face with the cool water, listening to the stall door open and footsteps shuffle close to the sinks. They faltered and Remus raised his head to look up in the mirror. His breath hitched in his throat.

It was a Slytherin Remus didn’t recognize. The blonde sneered, noticing Remus’ attention, and washed his hands at the sink furthest away. Remus felt his heart drop into his stomach with relief.

The Slytherin left, but scarcely a second followed before the door swung open again. Remus didn’t look up this time, thinking it was just another stranger. He’d finish washing his face and then he’d hide away in a stall for a while, at least until he thought dinner would be over. The time alone would give him a moment to think-

“Remus.”

He jumped, startled, and looked up from the sink. Behind him, Sirius stood frozen. His eyes met Remus’ in the mirror and Remus felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Sirius didn’t look much better, purple rimming his eyes and chin and cheeks dark with stubble he hadn’t shaved. If Remus didn’t know any better, he’d think Sirius was just as haunted and exhausted as Remus was.

Remus had run through his impending confrontation with Sirius since he'd learned of what he'd done from Dumbledore. He was torn between righteous anger upon seeing him or, more likely, deep mortification. He’d expected to see him in the Great Hall, a good distance away where Remus could ignore him; not so close in such a private place. But, as they stood frozen in their awkward silence, Remus didn’t know  _ how _ to feel. Numb was really the only word for it.

His fingers shook as he turned the tap and the water sputtered off. Pretending Sirius wasn’t there, Remus looked at his own reflection in the mirror and frowned at the scars, pink and raised, across his cheeks and nose, catching droplets of water in their creases. He grabbed a towel from the dispenser and dried his hands and his face, hoping Sirius would leave, finally getting the point that Remus didn't want to see him.

But, when he looked back up, Sirius hadn’t moved, and he was watching Remus with wary intensity.

“You’re okay,” Sirius said. It wasn’t a question, so much as it was an observation, but Remus found himself nodding in response anyways. Maybe he'd have been flattered Sirius cared, under other circumstances. 

“Are you?”

Sirius tensed as Remus slowly turned around to face him. It was so much easier to be brave when they were both just reflections, he mused. It was harder to ignore the pounding in his chest and desperation in Sirius’ face this way.

“I’m not the one who turned into a  _ bloody werewolf  _ last night _ , _ ” Sirius answered with a frown, and Remus felt a stab of shame, stumbling back into the porcelain sink. The cold edge dug into his spine and he clutched at it for support. The handsome boy’s face fell and he took a step forward, hands out and palms exposed, saying in a rush, “ _ Fuck.  _ I didn’t mean it like that _.  _ I only mean, I’m fine. You’re the one I’m worried about. You- it looked bad. The shift, it looked painful, I mean.”

Remus pushed damp hair from his eyes with shaking hands, watching Sirius’ face fall in defeat and shame. He wondered if Sirius could hear his heartbeat from this close, if Sirius knew how hard this was for Remus to do. Dumbledore had said not to hide, that facing Sirius was inevitable. But he hadn’t said anything about what to do when he did, only that it had to be done. This felt like enough for now.

“I- I need to go.” Remus pushed himself off the sink and lunged for the door. He’d barely pushed it open when he felt Sirius’ hands, strong and sure, gripping his arm and pulling him back.

“Please,” he begged, sending shivers down Remus’ spine, “I want to talk to you!” Sirius urged Remus to look at him, but Remus struggled. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want Sirius to be kind when it only made Remus feel more ashamed for what he was, what he nearly did.

Wrenching free of his grip, Remus shoved all of his weight against the door and stumbled out of the bathroom. He collided with something hard and bounced back into Sirius’ chest, who’d followed him with a strangled,  _ “Wait!”  _ Hands gripped at Remus’ arm and waist to steady him.

“Oi, what’s this?” someone complained and Remus realized with terror it was James Potter he’d run into. He rubbed at his chest, only a moment passing before a similar look of realization fell upon his face as well, and he stared at Remus with his mouth gaping open like a fish. James glanced at Sirius over Remus’ shoulder, tried to speak, but only sputtered.

Remus didn’t hear whatever Sirius was saying to James, his voice drowned out with the panic roaring in Remus’ ears. He shoved past the Gryffindor before Sirius could try and grab him again. Sirius called after him but he ran, as fast as he could down the corridor and around the corner. He only stopped when his vision grew blurry and his chest ached as painfully as it had that morning.

He shouldn’t have followed Dumbledore’s advice. He should have stayed hidden in his dormitory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are loved and appreciated. And I'm not above begging for them.


	12. Tarantallegra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLEH, I made some edits to this sucker and I'm sorry I keep going back and changing things. I'm the worst, I know.
> 
> Nothing super important was changed - just made the timeline make a little more sense. It was all over the place. There's also a lot more emoting, with all the teenage angst and self-loathing you could ever want. (It will get better soon, I promise)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Sirius couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to; he’d barely gotten an hour of tumultuous shut-eye before the sun rose and his body ached for sweet oblivion, the kind only a pilfered mug of butterbeer and eight hours of sleep could provide.

But his mind was whirling.

_“I’m not the one who turned into a_ bloody werewolf _last night!”_

Oh Merlin, he was an idiot. An absolute idiot.

There were several reasons why Sirius was an idiot, and he didn’t need anyone to remind him of why as he laid in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, stained with unspeakable potions experiments gone wrong, and listening to the other boys snore. One, there could have been someone else in the toilets when Sirius blurted out Remus’ secret, the secret that Remus had done a damn fine job of keeping under wraps until Sirius poked his stupid nose into it. Two, of course Remus had been apprehensive about seeing him - he didn’t know Sirius well enough to know that Sirius would die before divulging one of his friend’s secrets, and didn’t Remus know that Sirius now considered him a friend? Remus probably expected the shameful thing to be ‘round the whole school by noon if Dumbledore and McGonagall (mostly McGonagall) hadn’t threatened certain expulsion (and possibly death) if word got out about Remus’ furry little problem. So, when he’d seen Sirius and frozen, and all Sirius could think was how fucking _relieved_ he was at seeing him alive and well in the boys’ loo, it made sense that he would have been on the defensive. And that led to reason three, which was that Sirius was never all that good at articulating complex emotions (despite the frequency with which he felt them), and relief and worry and concern came out as, _“I’m not the one who turned into a_ bloody werewolf _last night!”_

By the time he’d noticed the shift in Remus’ eyes, the moment when he completely shut down, it was too late to backpedal. That didn’t stop Sirius from trying -  _ you’re the one I’m worried about  _ \- but Remus was done, and nothing Sirius could say in that moment would have stopped him from reeling away, right into James.

His heart fell into his stomach at the sight of Remus hurrying away, chin tucked against his chest and determinedly not looking at either Gryffindor. Sirius felt James’ gaze turn to him, bewildered, and Sirius didn’t trust himself to not go after Remus if he didn’t stay rooted to the spot. Obviously, Remus didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Fuck, mate,” Sirius had finally breathed. “I’ve fucked up.”

James blinked, glancing back over his shoulder where Remus had disappeared down the hallway. Slowly, he turned back to Sirius and something shifted in his expression, a daunting sort of understanding that made Sirius uncomfortable. He thought about what James had said in the early hours of morning, of whatever James thought was going on between him and the Ravenclaw, and how this looked after that conversation.  _ A lovers’ quarrel,  _ Sirius thought. That would have been better than the truth.

“Come on, Sirius. Let’s grab something from the kitchens and go back up to the Tower,” James urged gently, clasping Sirius on the shoulder and tugging him forward. He was blessedly silent the rest of the journey, and cuffed Peter over the head when the boy tried questioning Sirius on his sullen mood, James whispering something about “delicate matters.” Sirius hated how they tiptoed around him the rest of the night, but he couldn’t blame them - he’d been acting weird all term and they didn’t have any real clue why. He probably felt like a stranger to them.

And now, here he was, nearing midnight and no prospect for sleep in sight, ruminating on his sins. He wondered if Remus would ever forgive him, if he’d believe Sirius when he said he hadn’t meant to make him feel so bad, so ashamed for something he couldn’t help. He wondered if they could ever be friends again.

He wondered why it hurt so much to think that they couldn’t be, not after what Sirius put him through.

Sirius blinked away the angry tears that threatened to fall, feeling too much all at once, and turned onto his side to gaze out the open window.

\--

Somewhere, on the other side of the castle and in a tower much like his own, Remus did the same.

\--

Detention would start the following evening, and had the potential to last beyond the end of term should McGonagall have reason to suspect he hadn’t learned his lesson. Sirius thought that was reason enough to end his prison sentence  _ now,  _ because he’d more than learned from his stupid mistake, but didn’t want to risk what little freedom he had left by smarting off before it really even started. And besides, he knew he could have gotten much worse. If McGonagall had had her way, Sirius would have been packed up and never allowed to set foot on school grounds again.

He was suspended from the Gryffindor Quidditch team as well, which didn’t go over well with his teammates.

“Our match against Hufflepuff is  _ this  _ weekend, Black!”

“Why couldn’t you have gotten into trouble  _ after _ the match, you arsehole?”

“We’re going to have to put Pettigrew on a broom! We don’t have a chance!”

James had remained silent throughout the ordeal, and Peter didn’t appreciate how upset Marlene had sounded by the prospect of throwing their backup into the match last minute, but nothing could be done about it and so Sirius didn’t mouth off or make excuses. What difference would it make if six more people were upset with him?

Once the rest of the team had issued their abuses against him, Sirius was released from their clutches and, with nothing left to do, went on to class.

Classes were mostly the same. He sat with James and Peter and paid little attention to lectures, which infuriated Evans and made Sirius feel like something was still normal in his life. It was impossible to focus in the handful of courses he shared with Remus, anyways, the boy always too far away to speak to or catch his eye, but too close to completely ignore. They sat on opposite sides of the room and professors refused to pair them together, always assigning Sirius a partner even when the other students were free to choose for themselves. Sirius couldn’t blame them - he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t try to force a conversation with him at some point, given the chance.

Remus ignored Sirius so perfectly, he might as well not have existed in the same realm. Sirius wasn’t surprised. Shacklebolt, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to hex Sirius every time their paths crossed, but that was pretty typical even before the full moon. Sirius kept a wide berth, though, not willing to chance it in case Shacklebolt got it in his head to break his bones if one he got too close.

Soon enough, a week had passed and Sirius was already adjusting to this new pattern of pretending he wasn’t a wreck, attending classes, and heading straight to detention after supper. The teachers would take turns hosting him throughout the rest of term, passing him off after a week of mind-numbing busy work was completed. The first week was with McGonagall, the tension so thick it would have been suffocating had Sirius not been experienced in fielding disappointment from adults. After that, he was passed off to Slughorn, and then to Kettleburn. By the third week of this, Sirius convinced himself that he could almost forget he and Remus had ever been friends in the first place.

(He couldn’t.)

\--

Sirius took a shortcut through the courtyard, walking with the single-minded determination that was required when it came to lunch. He’d been asked to stay behind by Professor Flitwick - again - to hear the details of his detention that night while the others piled out into the halls, and by the time he was released, nearly half the lunch hour was gone. He hurried downstairs and then made the snap decision to cut through the courtyard, thinking it’d get him there quicker.

He was barely through the archway when he saw him, sitting alone on a stone bench, chewing absentmindedly on a roll of bread as he flipped a page of his book.

It was a mistake to go this way; Sirius would just go back, pretend he’d never been here-

Remus glanced up from his book, golden eyes wide. Curiosity was replaced with horror, and Sirius saw how his whole body tensed at the sight of him. It made his chest hurt a little bit.

“I--” Sirius began, not sure what he was going to say before the words left his mouth, but Remus shook his head, cutting him off before he could piece it together. They’d gone weeks without speaking, without any semblance of interaction, and at some point Sirius had stopped hoping they would. This moment, here in the bloody courtyard, sent a fresh wave of regret and shame over him.

Remus pursed his lips, jaw clenching, and Sirius could only look at the scar, the one that kissed the corner of his mouth and tugged it into an unwilling smile, so slight that Sirius wasn’t sure Remus even noticed. He wondered if anyone noticed, if anyone else looked at Remus as intently as Sirius was right now, if Remus knew what he looked like from here-

Remus stood. He didn’t say a word, could barely meet Sirius’ eyes, as he stooped to pick up his bag.

And then he left, walking to the opposite side of the courtyard where he could disappear inside and likely forget this had ever happened. Sirius stood frozen in the spot for a long time, until the grumbling of his stomach reminded him of his purpose and he followed Remus’ path on numb legs.

\--

Sirius ran the interaction over and over in his head throughout the rest of the day. He’d had to be reprimanded twice in detention for staring off when he should have been marking third years’ essays. And now it was nearing midnight and he still thought about it, tried to run over every detail in his head for something, some sign, he might have missed.

He closed his eyes, imagining the moment before Remus realized he was there.  _ Hair falling in front of his eyes, the sun catching on it and making it look more golden than it really was, like a lion’s mane. Fingers, long and criss-crossed with scars, worrying at the corner of a page. Shoulders relaxed, foot bouncing to some unheard beat. His mouth, soft for once, no longer scowling, unaware there was someone watching. _

Unbidden, another memory came to mind:

_ You’ve been paying a lot of attention to that Ravenclaw... _

A new kind of shame filled Sirius and he opened his eyes. He hadn’t thought about that awkward conversation with James since he’d tried cornering Remus in the loo. James tried to bring it up again that night, watching as Remus fled from them both, probably convinced he’d just interrupted a lovers’ spat, but Sirius wouldn’t hear it. He was too angry at himself, too embarrassed after an already shit day. James seemed to understand and didn’t say anything about it in the three and a half weeks since.

But now, when sleep was already hard enough to come by, Sirius couldn’t get the conversation out of his head, playing on loop over the confrontation they’d had that day.

Sirius wondered if James had been onto something, after all.

\--

The next full moon came and Sirius watched it rise from the window seat in the Common Room. He couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it, but he thought he heard a forlorn, sad sort of howl sometime in the night.

No one else seemed to notice it.

\--

Remus wasn’t in class the rest of the week. Sirius shouldn’t have been surprised that Shacklebolt threatened to hex his balls off when he caught him lingering outside the Hospital Wing between classes.

\--

It was exactly a week from Hallowe’en before James brought up the love potion again. If Sirius was being honest with himself, he’d completely forgotten about it. He’d not had the time to think about it, with all his moping and most nights in detention, and Snape was the furthest thing from his mind for once in his Hogwarts career. Professor McGonagall had made it clear any infraction of school rules - bullying included - would land him in enough detention to carry him through graduation.

“It took a couple tries, but Peter and I finally got it,” James explained, pulling Sirius into the bathroom and kneeling on the floor beside the cupboard. He opened one door, waved his wand over the empty space, and a cauldron appeared. “We needed more Bicorn powder than we thought, and Peter lost the hair somewhere in the Common Room so we needed another,” James frowned, “but it’s ready now. I think if we get it to Snivellus today, he’ll finally explode on Hallowe’en. If we’re really lucky, it’ll happen during the feast.”

For the first time in weeks, Sirius felt a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of mischief. “You both did this without me?” he asked, more in awe than in offense.

“Well, you’ve been preoccupied,” James said in way of explanation. “You’ve got to admit, you’ve not been at your best this term, mate.”

It was a testament to Sirius’ head being firmly up his arse that this conversation took so long to stumble into. He wondered how long James had been waiting to say something, and if Peter had wanted to confront him too. And he couldn’t blame his detentions and suspension from the team for it, not wholly - he’d been pulling away from them before all that, ever since the first week of term, and they knew it.

Sirius carded his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling restless under James’ heavy gaze, beseeching answers Sirius didn’t know if he could give. He didn’t want to lie to him anymore than he already had, though. “I know, I’ve been a real shit best friend,” Sirius admitted.

“Ay, that you have.”

“But I can’t tell you why. I think if McGonagall could have made me take an Unbreakable Vow not to say anything, she would have, but Dumbledore wouldn’t have allowed it.”

James whistled. “That severe, huh? I guess it explains the load of dung you’ve gotten yourself into.” Sighing, the boy leaned back against the closed cabinet door and fixed Sirius with a long stare. “You’d tell me if it was anything I’d really need to worry about, right? If it meant you getting hurt?”

A deep breath. “Yeah,” Sirius exhaled. “I would. But this goes beyond me. I really screwed things up for other people.”

“Like that Ravenclaw?”

_Shit._ “Yeah, like him.”

Silence fell over them for an achingly pregnant moment, Sirius sure James had somehow managed to put the pieces together. He hated himself all over for it-

“Merlin, you’re an idiot,” James laughed and startled Sirius out of his stupor, clapping him hard on the shoulder. “I get it, alright? But I can’t believe you’ve moped around all term because of this thing, whatever you did. The Sirius I know wouldn’t have let himself get beaten up so badly for it. He’d have picked himself back up and shake it off.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really feeling like myself lately, am I?”

James shrugged. “You’ll feel back to yourself soon, I bet. Until then, would you try to make more of an effort to not be a complete prat? Peter and I don’t know how to function in a two-person best friendship.”

Relief settling deep in his gut, Sirius felt himself grin. “I’ll do my best.”

\--

The plan was a simple one, James explained after their heart-to-heart.

That night at supper would be the perfect time to do it, giving the potion it’s seven days to work its magic before coming to head on Hallowe’en - or so James hoped, placing a lot of faith in a book he’d accrued a lot of late fees for. Clear and as viscous as honey, the potion was supposed to be odorless but sweet, and only a small amount would be necessary to do what they needed. James wasn’t sure what they’d do with the rest once their mission was completed, torn between disposing of the evidence and making Snape fall in love with Dumbledore every few weeks till he caught on, but it would be safe in the bathroom cupboard. The small vial of the stuff would go with them to dinner, along with the Invisibility Cloak and an artillery of spells that would keep Snape distracted while someone tipped the potion into his drink at dinner. Peter had, apparently, been practicing his Dancing Feet Spell all week and was eager to try it out on someone.

Just before six, the Marauders gathered what they needed and headed to the Great Hall, laughing and joking in a way that made Sirius feel lighter than he had in weeks. They reached the ground floor and James peeled away to slip behind a statue and cover himself in the cloak. According to plan, Sirius and Peter walked into the Great Hall seemingly without James to not rouse any suspicion at his sudden disappearance, and James took position at Slytherin table, hovering by Snape until Peter gave the signal.

“Who do you think it should be?” Peter whispered across the table, settling into his seat across from Sirius with wide eyes, back turned to the Slytherin table. He had his wand in his pocket, ready to fire at any moment, but _who_ would play victim to his spell had yet to be determined. It would have to be someone sitting near enough Snape to distract him, giving James the chance to tip the vial into his glass, but not close enough to accidentally hit Snape instead.

Sirius’ gaze swept over the Great Hall, assessing each Slytherin that sat near Snape at the far end of the table, not too far from where the Marauders sat. It was mostly sixth and seventh years, he noted, Nott and Crabbe among them, as well as the familiar black head of his own brother beside the target. Regulus was the only younger student deemed worthy enough to sit with the older students, it seemed. For a moment, Sirius was tempted, but thought he sat too close to Snape to work. Peter’s aim wasn’t the best.

“What about Nott?” Sirius finally suggested, dragging his gaze away from the slimy bunch. “He’s despicable enough. And there’s no one in the way.”

Peter hummed and reached for the wand tucked into his jeans pocket. “Yeah, why not?” he conceded flippantly. He twisted on the bench to get a good look at them and gave a curt nod in the direction he thought James might be, readying himself for the most exciting thing he’d done all term.

“ _Tarantallegra!_ ” Peter whispered, a faint green light emitting from the tip of his wand and going largely unnoticed by their fellow students nearby. People only noticed something was strange when Nott gave a startled yelp and fell backwards off his bench.

The boy scrambled to his feet, only to drop back down in a flurry of movement, bending at the knee, kicking one leg out, and then hopping back up just as quickly. His arms waved wildly, trying to catch onto whatever he could for balance, as his legs moved without his permission once again, dropping in that same swooping motion and then coming back up. Nott’s face fell on his friends in horror, beseeching their help, but no one jumped up to help him immediately. They were mostly laughing at him, along with the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors close enough to see.

Sirius was laughing too, and made no effort to hide it. He was so focused on the flawless Cossack Dance Nott was performing that he almost didn’t notice the pair of eyes on him across the Hall.

Remus must have been the only one with his back turned on the event, the rest of his House scrambling and twisting in their seats to see what was going on. Instead, he’d fixed Sirius with a knowing expression, one brow raised and lips pursed in that familiar way, really _looking_ at Sirius for the first time in weeks. He shook his head in admonishment, but Sirius didn’t think he was really all that angry, maybe more annoyed than anything that his dinner was disrupted.

There wasn’t enough time to react before James ruined the moment.

Breathless, the boy plopped down beside Sirius and shoved the Invisibility Cloak into his hands under the table, fumbling with the empty vial until it was safely tucked away in his pockets. James waited till he was sure no one had seen him to take the Invisibility Cloak back. By the time Sirius looked back up from the commotion, Remus was back to pointedly ignoring him, head bent low.

“Wow,” James sighed, “that was a great shot, Pete! I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

Looking rather chuffed with himself, Peter beamed and settled in to enjoy the rest of Nott’s performance until Slughorn descended from the faculty table to put an end to it. Nott, sputtering and red in the face, was led back to his seat to recover amidst a smattering of continued laughter.

Peter turned back in his seat and leaned forward, close enough so that Alice and Frank sitting nearby couldn’t hear. “You manage it alright?” he whispered.

“Perfectly. Now we just sit back and wait.”

All three turned their attention to Snape, watching with gleeful anticipation as the boy took a deep drink from his glass.


	13. The Great Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief recap, since it's been forever and a half: Sirius fucked up and he's facing the consequences. Remus receives top marks in avoidance tactics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg y'all, if you're still here - god bless. If you're new, welcome! I can't apologize enough for taking this long between chapters, but, like a vampire, my job has drained all life from me these last few months and life has been busy.
> 
> I can't leave well enough alone, so a few edits were made in December to the last chapter to clear up some issues with the timeline. It wasn't my favorite chapter, and it's been so hard to not go back and rewrite the whole thing. But I'm going to chill and stop doing this to you all. This is something I've done for fun and I gotta quit taking it so dang seriously.
> 
> I hope this chapter brings you joy and warm feelings, like it gave me as I was writing it - it was refreshing to flesh out more of Pandora's character. She's a precious ray of sunshine.

Remus buried himself in schoolwork, library books, and the occasional chess tournament held in the common room as term wore on. He was a walking cliche for Ravenclaw House, but it was better to distract himself with busy work and his nose in a book than to sit down and think about his problems. That was where ruin lay, and he refused to be yet another cliche of the heartbroken and humiliated teenage type.

He was very good at it, too.

Except, sometimes he wasn’t. Like when Sirius happened across him reading in the courtyard, or when he woke up from a strangely exhilarating dream - _flashes of silver eyes and shallow breaths and chasing, chasing, chasing through moonlit woods_ \- and he couldn’t help but drown in adolescent angst for a good while. It would ruin the whole day and inevitably worry Pandora and Kingsley if they noticed the change in mood. Pandora believed it had something to do with his mother (which Remus shamefully wouldn’t dissuade her from believing), and she was too considerate to press for details. Kingsley, on the other hand, could have taken a page from Pandora’s book.

He was a mother hen in the weeks following the full moon (and the week after the next), and followed Remus everywhere he went like a bodyguard, even to the classes they didn’t share. It was welcomed at first, when Remus felt too cowardly to face Sirius on his own, but it quickly grew tiresome when the Slytherins started in on the teasing.

“Oh, how _sweet_ ,” Snape crooned one morning, once Kingsley was out of earshot, “Loony Lupin has a _boyfriend_.”

The knowing look that accompanied it made Remus physically ill, and he begged Kingsley to stop following him that same afternoon. He could barely keep one secret safe - he didn’t know what he’d do if the other got out, too.

But, in spite of all that, life returned to relative normalcy. Remus spent time with his two friends and his Housemates, read his favorite books, and made lists of the sweets and supplies he might buy during the next Hogsmeade weekend with the little coin he’d saved up. It felt positively mundane, something he was unaccustomed to this term. He’d burnt three holes in his robes from assorted potions-making disasters, and only broke one bone at the next full moon, so things were going as well as could be expected. There was sometimes that familiar prickling feeling on the back of his neck, like someone was watching him, but it was easy to ignore at this point. He’d had a lot of practice.

It was nearing Hallowe'en when Pandora finally broke down and asked him about this mother.

Honestly, Remus should have seen it coming.

\--

On Friday afternoons, Remus had taken to spending his free period out on the grounds, retreating to the docks at the shallow end of the lake where he could sit with his back to the Whomping Willow and pretend for an hour that it didn’t exist. The air was quickly becoming too cool to continue the habit, but he took a grand sort of pleasure at toeing off his shoes, balling up his socks and placing them inside the tattered trainers, and then sitting with his bare feet skimming the dark waters until it was time to return indoors. It was a simple joy he’d taken up the year before, one that reminded him of the cottage his parents had rented when he was nine and his father chased after a new cure off the Welsh coast.

Sometimes he sat with a book, but more often than not he simply watched the tops of the trees of the Forest far beyond him or laid back to watch the clouds roll past, and wondered how it felt to be unafraid.

This Friday afternoon was proving to be no different than normal; Remus found his spot uninhabited, kicked off his shoes, and lowered himself down carefully, unwilling to tip face first into the water. He sighed at the sensation of cold water lapping at his toes, and he allowed himself a moment of peace. Head tipped back, eyes closed, Remus relished the feeling of being alone.

The feeling lasted maybe two minutes before he heard the telltale creaking of footsteps across the wooden planks.

For a brief moment, Remus thought it might have been Sirius. This seemed like something the Gryffindor might do - follow him out here, wait till there was no one else around, confront him where he’d have to jump into the lake to escape - but Sirius had decidedly avoided him up until this point, and his heart rate slowed. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then opened his eyes.

“So this is where you venture off to,” Pandora airily remarked, smiling down at him. Her eyes roved from Remus’ face down to where his feet disappeared in the water and the smile widened. Without another word, she sat down beside him to remove her own loafers, and dipped her toes in the water. If she found the temperature of the water uncomfortable, she made no mention of it.

“It’s a nice spot,” Remus said after she’d settled in, “barely anyone is out here.”

Pandora met his eye with a knowing look. “And that’s why you like it?”

Flushing, Remus nodded. “Yes. It’s quiet, and I like the lake. It reminds me of this old house we once lived in off the coast.”

“Oh? I realize I don’t know much about where you grew up. Where was that?”

It was an innocent enough question, but Remus couldn’t help the way his throat felt like it was closing up, his tongue leaden in his mouth. But Pandora was watching him patiently, waiting for an answer, and Remus would have to give it to her. He cleared his throat, dodging her stare to look down at his feet half-submerged, and answered, “I grew up near Leicester, but we moved around a lot. My favorite was a place off the coast in Wales - I liked the water and we’d never lived on the coast before. We only stayed about a year before we moved close to Bristol, though. We’d just moved up to Scotland when I got my letter.”

“I can’t imagine living in so many places. I’ve only ever lived here and in our family home in Ottery St. Catchpole - have you ever heard of it?” Pandora asked.

Remus shook his head, and Pandora continued, “It’s a small village, with some Muggle families and a few other Wizarding ones, too. My dad’s family has lived there for generations, so I doubt we’ll leave anytime soon.”

“Do you want to leave, eventually?” Remus found himself asking, finally chancing another look at her. He was relieved to find she was no longer watching him, instead mirroring him in staring down at her toes, pale and wriggling in the cold water. That friendly smile she always wore was slipping, though. Warning bells sounded in Remus’ head.

She mulled over his question, shifting her weight and working her jaw like she was trying to figure out a difficult rune. Remus wondered if he’d struck a nerve. “I’d like to,” she finally confessed, “but my parents won’t like it. I can’t stand to stay there too long, though. Every time I go back for the holidays, it feels like I can’t leave it fast enough.”

“Really? Why?”

“My little brother died there. When I was twelve. It was while I was home for summer hols and he’d been sick for a while. We’d been expecting it, but...still. It was awful.”

 _Oh._ Remus flushed with shame. He’d had no clue - in fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever asked Pandora about her family much at all, only skimming the surface to keep her at a distance so she’d not ask about his. How terribly selfish of him.

Pandora took a deep breath and straightened her spine, turning her head to fix him with a sad smile. “But you know how that is, don’t you?”

Remus blinked at her. “Know what?”

“How it is to have a sick loved one back home. How hard it is to not be there all the time. It must be very hard on you, to see your mum like that and know there’s nothing you can do.”

_Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-_

“Yeah,” Remus croaked, nodding and gnawing at his bottom lip. He was the worst friend in the history of friendships - he didn’t deserve this girl, this wonderful human who cared so deeply and tried so hard to make him feel better, even when she didn’t know exactly what was bothering him - and, Merlin, he was going to be _sick._ But he couldn’t tell her the truth, that his mother was _fine,_ that she was enjoying her life at home with her doting husband, not having to worry constantly about her werewolf freak of a son, not having to constantly move from one place to another to find a bloody cure that _didn’t exist_ and lose every friend she ever made or job she’d ever-

“Remus?” A light touch to his arm snapped him right out of it. “You alright?”

 _No._ “Yeah, sorry, just thinking,” Remus lied, pasting on a tight-lipped smile.

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“You’re not very good at that,” Pandora said, as though that explained everything.

“Very good at what?”

“At lying!” she laughed, seemingly unaffected by the drastic change in conversation. “You’re _horrible_ at it, did you know? I can see straight through you - you are definitely not alright. I hit a nerve.

“Tell me what’s going on with you, Remus. This isn’t all about your mum, is it? You’re awful at hiding it when you’re upset, and you’ve been upset for weeks. If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. I swear not to tell anyone.”

Remus kicked halfheartedly at the water and dragged a hand through his hair, grasping for the right words. How did he explain everything that had gone so horribly wrong with this term without giving away too much? He owed her something, though. Some semblance of the truth. She deserved that, and he wondered if maybe it was time to finally open up about something real, and not skirt around what was really bothering him all the time.

Extolling a deep breath, Remus confessed, “Honestly? I’m absolutely fucked, Pandora.”

\--

Pandora was a patient listener and let Remus tell her all about how he’d been infatuated with Sirius Black since fourth year (“Third year, really, when I think about it,” he realized with a frown) and how he’d been content to skate by largely unnoticed until this term. He told her how Sirius teased him every chance he got, and how he’d felt so conflicted between disliking the boy and fancying him even more desperately. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze when he told her he thought they might have been friends, almost - how Sirius stood up for him against Snape in the loo, how they always seemed to run into each other, how Sirius promised to not to tell anyone when Remus thought he’d been found out.

Remus’ eyes stung when he told her that whatever friendship they’d had was ruined. “I, um, thought he knew, in the stands that day, that I’d been keeping this secret from him. You know, that he’d figured it out. But he was clueless - I think he just knew _something_ was happening and he didn’t want me to stay upset with him. But then, he really ended up figuring it out and it was awful,” Remus’ breath hitched and he tried very hard to remain composed, because maybe then he could pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown, “And he’s really disgusted by me now. You should have seen him when he found out.”

Clenching his hand even harder, Pandora reached forward with her free hand to tuck a piece of errant hair behind Remus’ ear, the gesture so like his mother’s he had to blink a tear away. She wasn’t smiling anymore. “Remus, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. With a sigh, the shorter girl leaned into him and let her head rest on his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s really brave you told him the truth.”

Remus snorted. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean for him to ever find out.”

“Still,” Pandora stressed, covering their clasped hands. “You’ve been brave. I think I might have run away and never shown my face again had it been me. But you’ve been doing your best to keep going on. I admire that in you.”

It was very possible that she was going to make Remus cry if this was kept up. He sniffed, keeping his eyes locked on her smaller hands encompassing his, and thought briefly that this must be what Muggles felt like after a confessional. Lighter, mind clearer.

“For what it’s worth,” she continued, “I think he misses you.”

Remus froze, the lightness he was just feeling suddenly vanished, replaced by a roaring in his ears. “What?”

Pandora must have felt him tense beside her, because she straightened up to look him full-on, brows furrowed. “Sirius misses you. He’s looked as miserable as you have,” she explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I see him in classes watching after you sometimes. It’s not very subtle. And I can always see him from where we sit in the Great Hall - he sort of drifts off, yeah? And it’s always in our direction. I’ve thought it was odd, but it all makes sense now.”

“Pandora, you can’t honestly expect me to believe that all this means he _misses_ me-”

“No, but how do you know he's really as upset as you think? What did he say specifically?”

“He didn't have to say anything; I just _know,_ alright?”

Lips pursed, Pandora shook her head. “Tell me what he said.”

_You’re the one I’m worried about. Please. I want to talk to you._

“I...I guess I didn’t really let him say anything,” Remus mumbled. “I ran off before he could.”

 _Uh-huh,_ Pandora seemed to say with a raised brow. “And have you tried talking to him since then?”

A memory came to mind, just a few weeks before, of finding himself in a courtyard with his nose in a book, and Sirius happening across him there. Remus hadn’t really let him say anything then either, had he? He’d picked up his things and left before Sirius could say a word, even if the look on his face screamed that he’d wanted to.

Later, Remus ran it over in his head mercilessly, till he fell into a fitful sleep.

_Sirius stood close enough for him to hear the hitch in his breath, to see his pupils widen and drown out the glittering silver of his irises. He looked as surprised as Remus felt, like he’d never expected to run into Remus again like this, in such an odd place, so alone. It was achingly familiar. Sirius stared for a long time, and Remus stared right back. For a brief moment, Remus thought he looked relieved. But that must have been a trick of the light._

“Once,” Remus said. “We ran into each other a while back. I left before he said anything.”

Retracting her feet from the water, Pandora twisted to grab hold of her shoes, no longer pinning Remus down with her gaze. “Hmm. This is just as I thought.”

Remus furrowed his brow at her, mimicking her movements to stand. “What? What’s what you thought?”

The wait was agonizing as the girl bent forward to dry her feet with a quick spell and slip her loafers back on, doing the same courtesy for her friend before he thought to do it himself. When she stood straight once again, her eyes were dancing, triumphant and mischievous.

“I'm pretty sure Sirius Black is as gone as you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your sweet comments bring me joy <3


	14. Wolfsbane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re picking up where we left off at the end of chapter 12, and the timeline will be a little more linear for now. Hopefully it’s not been too confusing when we’ve shifted point of views :) Thank you for reading and your patience during long absences! I’d love to hear your thoughts, as always.

It only stood to reason that hours after their heart-to-heart the rest of the school would descend into chaos.

Pandora and Remus headed back indoors to change out of their school robes and meet Kingsley for dinner. He’d had Quidditch practice that afternoon, which usually meant he’d be stuffing his face before either of them had even sat down, but when they found him, he’d not yet touched his food. He looked up at them both expectantly, throat bobbing. Remus took his seat across from him and gave a tired smile.

“You put her up to it, didn’t you?” Remus asked, glad to note that Pandora seemed unfazed by the question, simply reaching for the teapot beside her and fixing her drink instead. She pretended as though she couldn’t hear, despite their legs touching beneath the table.

Kingsley tensed and looked between the two, but Pandora offered no help. He was alone in this one. “I didn’t, mate, I swear! She told me that she wanted to talk to you and I _might_ have suggested you’d be out on the docks, but-”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. _Merlin,_ he’d been a right ghoul these last few weeks, hadn’t he? “Kings, I’m not mad,” he reassured him. “It’s fine, really. I actually feel a lot better.”

The tension in Kingsley’s shoulders relaxed. “You mean, you told her-”

“About Sirius, yeah,” Remus interjected.

Nodding, Kingsley finally looked down at his plate and broke his self-imposed fast. They’d talk more later, when Pandora and the rest of their House weren’t within hearing distance, about what Remus told her to explain, how he couldn’t tell her about the full moon, not yet - but maybe someday. Remus would apologize for being a right wanker about all this, too. He owed him that. Kingsley had put up with his moods and self-absorption for a long enough time.

“You two are so strange,” Pandora declared, rejoining the conversation. “No wonder we’re such good friends.”

Kingsley laughed and they all began piling food onto their plates, relief smoothing the wrinkles on Kingsley’s brow and the nervous rumbling in Remus’ stomach. This was the lightest Remus felt in weeks, knowing that he didn’t have to hide all of himself from the people that mattered. Even when he caught sight of Sirius walking into the Great Hall with Peter Pettigrew, he didn’t feel quite so anxious. Instead, he thought back to what Pandora said, out on the docks with the sun in her eyes and that warm smile on her lips: _Sirius Black is just as fucked as you are._ He couldn’t be sure she was right - she only knew half the story, after all, and the boy in question didn’t actually know anything about Remus’ feelings for him - but a small part of him wished she was right. Maybe Sirius did miss him. Maybe Sirius did think of him, in a not-quite-as-friends-but-something-else way. And maybe Pandora was just trying to make him feel better.

Sirius sat down at Gryffindor table, facing Remus, but then his friend sat down on the other side and the trance was broken. Remus tore his eyes away from the pair and back to his own friends.

Once they’d settled into a pleasant rhythm of chatting and laughing, Pandora began telling them of her last letter from her mother, detailing the story of a young man who’d gotten himself lost in the fields near their home: “He’s sort of the town’s eccentric, always getting lost and going on about conspiracies. But he’s lived there for years! I don’t know how Xenophilius keeps losing his way when he’s lived there since he was a boy. You know, you two might actually recognize him! He graduated Hogwarts when we were second-”

“ _Gah!_ ”

A whooping holler from the Slytherin table echoed in the Great Hall. Pandora jumped in alarm and twisted in her seat to see what was the matter, and something between a scoff and a laugh escaped her, her story forgotten. Curious, Kingsley straightened to see over their heads, and Remus glanced over his shoulder behind him.

There were other people standing and blocking their view, but in the spaces between them, Remus could see someone had jumped up from their seat and started - what Remus could only assume - dancing. He caught sight of the student’s face when he’d dropped in a low kick, and realized it was one of Snape’s friends. Nott gave an impassioned, furious cry as he popped back up a quick second later.

The rest of Ravenclaw table clamored to see what was the matter, which was soon followed by Hufflepuff table, and then Gryffindor. Their laughter and jeering drowned out Nott’s shouts, but his anguish and confusion was clear - he wasn’t doing this on purpose. Remus spotted some of the professors at the front rising from their seats with wands in hand in an attempt to restore order.

It was entirely subconscious that when Remus turned back, his eyes fell on Sirius across the Hall. He had a perfect view of him amongst all the commotion, between swaying bodies trying to get a better view, and it hit him that this felt like a very Marauder-type thing to do. This term had been eerily quiet in pranks, but something told him this was one of theirs. The pure joy on Sirius’ face was certainly a clue.

Remus was staring, he knew he was, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Sirius laugh, couldn’t remember the last time he’d really looked at the boy at all. Fleetingly, he remembered an empty classroom, Sirius teasing him for something he couldn’t remember. His heart felt very heavy.

And then, Sirius stopped laughing. He was looking at Remus instead, just as Remus was looking at him, and normally Remus would have broken the eye contact by now, pretended he’d not not done a thing wrong, but he couldn’t. Courage - alien and unfamiliar - bolstered him. He raised a brow, questioning, and Sirius only blinked, like he wasn’t sure he could trust what he was seeing. And then Remus held back a laugh, pursing his lips to keep it inside, only to remember that Sirius had once it wasn’t a very attractive look for him, that same day they’d stolen into that empty room together - _does that mean he thinks you have attractive looks?_

Remus shook the thought from his head. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, James Potter plopped down right in front of Sirius and blocked Remus’ view of him.

Tearing his eyes off the Gryffindors, Remus realized his hands were trembling and he very quickly dropped his fork and clasped his hands in his lap, willing them to stop. Whatever just happened was exhilarating - and terrifying. Mostly terrifying. But, Remus couldn’t get Pandora out of his head and he wondered if maybe, by some miracle, she was right.

Sirius hadn’t looked disgusted, or upset with him. He certainly looked confused, but confused he could handle. Confused he could understand; Remus had just been ignoring him for the last month and a half, and now all of a sudden he was making eyes at him across the Great Hall. But, surely, that wouldn’t be enough to know if Pandora’s theory was right. Remus would have to test the waters a few more times to really be certain if Sirius missed him, and he wasn’t entirely sure where to start.

“Alright, alright!” Professor Slughorn had come to Nott’s rescue and he was shooing students back to their seats, ignoring their disappointed groans and booing. “ _Finite incantatem!”_

Sprung free from his curse, Nott collapsed to the ground and began to sob. The jeering (now made by his own friends) continued on, but the professor had effectively stopped any fun that the rest of the school might have had, and ushered everyone back to their seats while Nott remained sprawled out on the stone floor. Madam Pomfrey could be seen bustling through the crowd of students to check up on him.

“Not that I condone that kind of spellwork,” Kingsley sighed, “but I wish whoever did it aimed just a little more to the right. Snape could have done with a good hex.”

“Kingsley! That’s not very kind,” scolded Pandora, frowning. When Remus had difficulty holding back his laughter, she shot him a dirty look.

With a sheepish shrug, Kingsley said, “Everyone here was thinking it.”

Her eyes narrowed and the boys both braced for a good tongue-lashing, but surprised them both by conceding, “Yes, alright, but you didn’t need to say it out loud.”

For the rest of their meal, they fell back into that comfortable rhythm they’d found before, the air between the three of them lighter than it had been in weeks. If the other two noticed Remus’ gaze drifting to the Gryffindor table every now and then, they thankfully kept quiet.

\--

“So, I owe you an apology.”

They hadn’t done this since they were second years, but Remus climbed onto Kingsley’s bed, where he was already settled beneath the covers with his head propped up with an arm and a book open on his chest, and sat at the foot of it. Kingsley didn’t make a fuss about it, just marked his place and sat the book down, nodding for Remus to continue.

“I’ve been sort of...self-involved. This whole term. And that’s not been fair to you,” Remus swallowed and clenched his hands nervously in his lap. The room was empty save for the two of them, the rest of their roommates still downstairs, but, still, Remus kept his voice quiet. “I haven’t been a good friend, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

For a long moment, Kingsley was quiet, and Remus was sure he was going to be rebuked or the apology rejected, but then Kingsley sighed and pushed himself up into sitting position. He reached across the expanse of sheets to ruffle Remus’ hair, and broke out into a smile.

“You’re so smart, but sometimes you’re kind of an idiot.”

Remus scoffed, patting down his hair ineffectively. “ _What_ does that mean?”

“It means I’m not actually upset, but you’re beating yourself up about it like I am.”

“I come in here, _humble myself_ to apologize for being a prat, and you _make fun of me._ See if I ever apologize for anything else after this.”

Kingsley laughed, the noise loud and booming, and Remus couldn’t help it - he broke out into a grin, having a laugh of his own when Kingsley nearly tipped over with the force of his mirth. “If it upsets you that much, then I forgive you,” he wheezed, clutching at his stomach. “You can begin making amends by telling me what Pandora got out of you.”

“Oh Merlin,” Remus breathed, “more than I meant to tell her at first. But it was alright, in the end. She was very understanding and didn’t make me feel like a deviant. She doesn’t know about me being a… you know. But she thinks this whole term has been about Sirius-”

“Which it has been.”

Remus leveled Kingsley with a glare. “And she thinks he found out I fancy him, and that’s why we’ve been avoiding each other. She said something really strange about it, though, and it’s been driving me insane.”

“Yeah? What was that?”

“She...she thinks he fancies me back. I think that’s what she meant, anyways.”

“Huh.” Frowning, Kingsley leaned back against his headboard, arms crossed over his chest and looking much like he was trying to figure out a tricky arithmetic problem. Which, considering what Remus just told him, wasn’t so far from the truth. Remus was about to tell him to forget it, that he was just being stupid, when Kingsley said, “I did catch him outside the Hospital Wing, last full moon. He didn’t look too good, then.”

This was news to him. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time. I thought he was just going to rub your face in it, or something. I couldn’t figure out why else he’d be there. But,” Kingsley shrugged, “if he, y’know, _fancies_ you or whatever Pandora thinks, it’d make sense he was worried. He might have been trying to make sure you were okay.”

“He was _worried?”_

“Hmm, yeah, he looked pretty off. I’d say he was worried. I’m not sure if it was a friendly kind of worry or a boyfriendly kind of worry, though. It might have just been, ‘Sorry I nearly made you a murderer’ kind of worry.”

With a groan, Remus flopped forward and buried his face in the sheets.

“You know,” he heard Kingsley muse, “I think we’ve reached a new level of friendship here. I didn’t think we could get any higher, and yet, here we are, gabbing about boys in our pajamas-”

It didn’t take too powerful a shove to knock Kingsley off his bed.

\--

By the time Monday morning came ‘round, Remus was beginning to wish he was a braver sort of person.

He’d tried to keep himself occupied with finishing homework and perusing the library’s collection of Muggle literature over the weekend, attempting to keep his head clear of any Sirius-related thoughts, but it was a fruitless effort, something always drawing his attention back to the problem at hand. Pandora was always willing to listen and, as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the common room Saturday night, she assured him that the only way to fix things was to face them head-on:

“I know he feels something for you, too; wouldn’t it be easiest to just ask him? Surely, he’d want to clear the air if he knew you were on the same page?”

Which was true, Remus knew, but that required one thing that he did not possess much of, and that was courage. Disheartened, he turned to Kingsley, knowing his friend would probably make jokes out of it, but knew more of the truth than Pandora and might suggest a less harrowing solution.

“I don’t know,” Kingsley mused, stroking his smooth chin in an impressive imitation of Dumbledore, “you could...confess your undying love to him in the form of a sonnet? Or a love note? Something that’s self-propelling and makes fun of his hair if he refuses you?”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he had something long enough to reach across the library table and smack Kingsley in the head. “Not. Helpful. Kings.”

Shrugging, Kingsley leaned back in his chair and fixed Remus with a raised brow. “Honestly, mate, I don’t know what to tell you. It seems like you ought to just get him alone and demand some answers. Maybe apologize for being so quiet, if you feel like softening him up,” he said. “Buck up and just do it. You’ll feel better once you do.”

It was a mimicry of Pandora’s advice, at its foundation. But what if Sirius didn’t reciprocate? What if Remus bucked up and cornered Sirius in an empty hallway, like Sirius was always so good at doing to him, and he didn’t feel better afterwards? What if Sirius was more disgusted with him than he let on? What if-

“Oi!” Kingsley was flapping his hands in front of Remus’ face. “Where’d you go, Rem? You alright?”

Remus took a steadying breath and gave a curt nod, suddenly wishing he hadn’t brought it up in the first place. Kingsley and Pandora were right, of course - the only way to resolve this was to face it head-on.

He hated it.

The universe fucking _adored_ it, though.

Monday mornings meant Double Potions and, up until this point, Remus had managed to survive by sitting as far away from the Gryffindors as he possibly could and following brewing instructions with an almost manic sort of focus. He hadn’t blown up the room or singed anyone’s robes but his own and, by some mandate handed down by a furious Professor McGonagall, was only assigned to his fellow Ravenclaws for partner work. Remus garnered very little attention, if any, during these mornings and he savored the feeling of being ignored.

There was nothing to indicate this morning of lessons would be any different, but really, Remus should have known the universe would intervene.

“Good morning!” Professor Slughorn’s too-cheery-for-a-Monday voice boomed across the dungeon classroom. Most students were still filtering in and finding their seats, but there was a weak parroting of the greeting nonetheless. If the old man took note of their lackluster attitudes towards his class, he ignored it. Remus might have admired his resilience if he was more awake. As it was, he had struggled to sleep the night before - _what-ifs_ turning to nightmares - and had to have Kingsley practically drag him to the dungeon for the lesson. He’d only just dropped into the seat beside his best friend when Slughorn continued, “We are attempting partner work today, but I’d like to try something a little different.

“Each of you has a card placed in front of you with the picture of an herb. Your herb has its partner amongst your peers, and you must find the matching card to complete your pair. Once that has been achieved, you will have to find a potion in your textbook which features your herb as an ingredient, and brew it.”

The Hufflepuff in front of Remus barely stifled a groan. Remus could relate.

Professor Slughorn pressed on, his grin now reaching dangerous levels of self-congratulations. “Your potion, whichever you decide to brew, is not due until I see you again next Monday, so please keep this in mind when choosing. Your homework this week is to work on this potion. Now, on you go! Find your pairs!”

There was an immediate flurry of papers flapping and chairs scuffing as students began their search for their herb-match. Kingsley had moved to flip over his card before Remus even processed what Slughorn had said, still staring at the man with horror when Kingsley elbowed him in his side.

“Mate, what’d you get?” Kingsley asked, breaking Remus from his reverie. “I’ve got asphodel root - please tell me you’ve got it, too.”

Remus reached forward for his own card and flipped it over with a shaking hand. A weird sense of dread washed over him when he realized the herb illustrated between his fingers was aconite.

_Wolfsbane._

He swallowed and showed it to Kingsley with a pounding heart, hoping his panic didn’t read as clearly on his face as he felt it. It was a coincidence, entirely - at least, that’s what his brain kept yelling at him - but he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him, waiting to see how he reacted. He vaguely remembered one of Dumbledore’s many warnings about agents of dark wizards within castle walls and werewolves taking sides.

Kingsley frowned, looking down at the card. “Damn,” he hissed. “Wonder who’ve we got then?”

Remus finally chanced a look up at the rest of the room and was disheartened to find that most people were finding their partners and settling in together to comb through their textbooks. Pandora was already seated with a Hufflepuff in the front of the room, and Remus felt his heart drop another inch towards his stomach. Any hope he had to be saved from this hell was dashed.

A hand tapped Remus’ shoulder and he nearly fell out of his chair to spin around, heart hammering in his chest. James Potter quirked a brow at him, looking very put-out by this whole ordeal, and shoved his card in Remus’ face. “Is this your herb?” he asked none-too-gently.

 _Asphodel._ “No,” Remus breathed. He turned to Kingsley. “I think I’ve found your pair.”

Kingsley inhaled sharply through his nose and James’ irritated face suddenly turned stony. Already, Remus knew this was one of Slughorn’s worst ideas.

“Right. Let’s get to it, then, Potter,” Kingsley said through gritted teeth, grabbing his bag off the back of his chair and rising to follow the Gryffindor to the empty table beside them. James rolled his eyes and didn’t even flinch when Kingsley started issuing quiet threats of disembowelment.

Suddenly, Remus was left alone with his panic. Rational thought told him to get up and start asking after other’s cards, but his feet felt too heavy to move and all he could do was hand his own card over when Evans took pity on him and asked to see it. For a brief moment, he’d thought maybe his anxiety was undeserved, when her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Oh!” She tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear, bending closer to get a better look. Remus felt his heart stutter - _oh thank Merlin, he was saved, he would be fine, this would be-_

Evans straightened up and twisted to look behind her, where a small group was arguing over their cards. It consisted mostly of Gryffindors and one or two Slytherins, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Black, I’ve found your match!”

Realization dawned on him in an instant and Remus’ blood turned cold. _Of course, of_ course _this would happen to him._ Life was never fair, could never throw him a bone when he needed it.

Sirius looked over the heads of his classmates, who were still arguing over whether or not yarrow flowers were white or yellow, and frowned at Evans’ proclamation. “Really? Who’s the lucky bas-”

His eyes met Remus’, who was now effectively cowering behind the redhead, and the curse on the tip of his tongue dissolved in disbelief. Remus thought he could see Sirius’ face pale in the dim light of the dungeon classroom and his adam’s apple bobbed against his crumpled white collar. The tension was palpable, Remus’ mouth suddenly dry, and he wished for nothing more than a hole to open up in the ground beneath him. He thought about calling this to Professor Slughorn’s attention and demand a change, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, let alone breathe as Sirius took stilted steps towards them.

The Gryffindor was less than a foot away when Evans finally took her leave, glancing between them with a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes. Remus wanted to beg her to stay, to trade cards with him, but he couldn’t even if he’d tried. He was being held prisoner by the desperation etched in the fine lines around Sirius’ mouth. He wondered if those lines were now permanent, and hoped that they weren’t - they didn’t suit him.

“So, wolfsbane, huh?” Sirius finally said, drawing Remus’ gaze from his mouth to his eyes.

Remus startled and felt warmth creep up his cheeks. “Um, yeah,” he croaked. “Ironic, huh?”

Sirius’ face went slack for just a moment, like he wasn’t sure how to respond, before he coughed and nodded his head. “Yeah, I guess so.” He broke their eye contact and moved to take the empty seat beside Remus, refusing to say anything else until Remus pulled out his decrepit secondhand textbook and opened it between them.

“So,” Remus breathed, “we need to find a potion.”

Sirius cleared his throat and nodded, “Yeah. Something with wolfsbane. Ought to be easy.”

“Right.” Remus reached for the book at the exact moment Sirius did, fingers brushing over yellowed pages. It felt like lightning, pricking his fingertips numb and shooting up his palms. He yanked his hand back to cradle it against his chest. Heat crept up his neck when he realized Sirius was staring at him with eyes wide, hand still frozen on the corner of the page.

“You alright?”

Remus licked his lips and nodded. Merlin, he must look like an absolute lunatic. “Yeah, just fine,” he lied. “We could do an Awakening Potion, or a pain-reliever of some kind. It shouldn’t take the whole week to make.”

Maybe if he kept his head down and refused eye-contact, Remus could pretend he was partnered with some random Gryffindor he didn’t know too well. He could pretend that his heart wasn’t thumping painfully in his chest or that every word out of Sirius’ mouth took miles to figure out. It was only, what? Three more hours of this? Remus could manage.

Probably.

Sirius was quiet while he flipped through Remus’ book, turning back and forth between the index and body. He chewed on his bottom lip as he browsed.

“The Awakening Potion will only take a day if we use your pewter cauldron,” Sirius finally spoke. “I’ll do most of the brewing.”

Embarrassment, hot and stifling, kept Remus quiet as Sirius read the ingredients list to himself, murmuring it to himself under his breath like Remus wasn’t even there. The dungeon light was dim, of course, but Sirius still glowed in it, light haloing his hair and catching on his eyelashes, fluttering as he read. He looked completely unbothered by this whole thing, angelic even, and Remus felt immensely foolish - _of course Pandora was wrong, there was no way Sirius felt the same, he was crazy for even entertaining the idea-_

“I’ll grab what we need from the cupboard, if you’ll set up the cauldron,” Sirius instructed. He looked up from the book and Remus felt his heart jump to his throat. Those damn eyes would be the death of him.

With nothing intelligent to say, Remus nodded and held his breath as Sirius sprung from his chair like an animal from a trap. No doubt, he wanted to get as far away from Remus as Remus did from him. Except, that wasn’t really right, was it? He’d spent the whole weekend struggling to find ways to confront his fears, ways to get some answers out of the Gryffindor and finally quelch the anxiety that ate away at him. He’d whinged and worried and slept horribly the whole time and now he was getting exactly what he’d asked for. It should have felt like a victory, but instead Remus just felt winded and small.

Sirius returned a short time later with the sprigs of wolfsbane, snake fangs, and Billywig Stings they would need for their potion, and said nothing as he watched Remus poke at the small flame licking the bottom of his cauldron. Like most of his possessions, it was shabby and used.

The silence settled upon them like fog. Remus crushed the snake fangs dutifully in his mortar, fingers gripping the stone pestle so hard his knuckles turned white and dug dunes into his skin, while Sirius counted out Billywig Stings and tossed them into the cauldron. This was such a simple potion, one that Remus vaguely remembered learning some time in his second year, but he couldn’t blame Sirius for wanting to be the one that brewed it. It was a miracle he was allowed anywhere near the thing considering his track record.

And wasn’t it ironic, that _this_ was what brought them together, after how this whole mess started?

Sirius’ elbow brushed against Remus’ forearm and he jumped, dropping the pestle with a loud _clank_ against the hard tabletop. He opened his mouth, surely about to say something distant and polite, probably ask if he was _alright,_ if there was something _wrong,_ and Remus couldn’t stand it. _No,_ he wasn’t alright, and _yes, of-fucking-course there was something wrong - I’m stuck here with you and you don’t seem to care._

“ _Toilet!_ ” he shouted, standing with enough force to nearly knock over his own chair. Sirius stared, unblinking, with his mouth still open. Remus bolted for the door.

The corridors in the dungeon were equally as dim as the classroom, but they were cooler, no amount of Warming Charms keeping the chill from clinging to the ancient stones like desperate lovers. It was blissful, feeling the cool draft lick at Remus’ cheeks and sooth the embarrassed burn left there. He stumbled along the corridors with no real destination in mind, despite shouting the first thing that had come to mind - _Merlin, what an idiot_ \- but the dungeons were so labyrinthine it wouldn’t have mattered if Remus was looking for something in particular anyways. He hadn’t spent enough time down there to know where anything was.

Finally, after what was maybe only a few minutes but felt like forever, Remus turned a corner and found himself at a dead-end in an alcove. There was a small window in the shape of a semicircle situated high on the wall, feeble morning light spilling into the corner, and a weathered tapestry hung across where Remus stood. Otherwise, the alcove was empty. He leaned back against the hard stones to study the tapestry when he heard his name.

He thought maybe it was Kingsley, come to check up on him after the scene he’d made, and craned his head to look down the hall.

“Remus?”

Sirius turned a corner and stood at the other end of the corridor, awash in green light. His hands were clenched in fists at his side and he looked mildly uncomfortable, if the grimace tugging at his mouth was any indication. He squinted into the shadows and moved like he was about to head back the way he came, when his eyes settled on Remus, peeking out from his alcove, too terrified to move.

Remus watched in horror as the Gryffindor approached. _Idiot, idiot, idiot…_ he chanted in his head.

And then Sirius was so close Remus could see the lines of concern etched into his face, parentheticals around his mouth and dark brows knit together. He swallowed - Remus couldn’t help the way his eyes traced the contours of his throat - and then stepped fully into the alcove _with_ Remus, standing much too close. Had his own fear not paralyzed him, Remus might have run away.

“So,” Sirius said after a moment. “You really hate me, don’t you?”

“What?”

 _Shouldn’t it be the other way around?_ Remus wondered.

Sirius licked his lips and gestured between them. “I fucked this up, right? I mean,” an awful, bitter laugh tore from his throat, “you can’t even stand to breathe the same air as me. You couldn’t run away fast enough! It was the same that day in the courtyard, too. You run, _every_ time.”

“What are you talking about?” Remus frowned, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them, fear giving way to confusion and indignation. Anything Pandora might have said to him just a few days before slipped away and was replaced with all the ugly thoughts he’d been telling himself instead. “ _You_ hate _me,_ remember? I’m the freak that nearly killed you, and all because you couldn’t keep your nose out of my business!”

“I don’t hate you, Remus, how could you think that?”

“You made it _perfectly_ clear the night after the full moon how you felt about me-”

“Wha- no, hold on, I didn’t do any such thing! I was trying to make sure you were okay, and then you _bolted,_ like you always do-”

“You should have left me alone!” Remus cried out, his voice breaking and loud in his ears. He pressed on, “I don’t know why you couldn’t just mind your _own_ damn business, but you just couldn’t let it go, even after I begged you to! You pretended to be my friend and then you went and nearly made me a _murderer-_ ”

“I care about you, okay? I was worried!” Sirius interjected. He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit Remus recognized, and his once-confident gaze looked for anything besides Remus to focus on. Remus felt a strange sort of numbness wash over him, his anger slowly ebbing away as Sirius deflated, and he couldn't bring himself to speak a word. “I...I saw you, that morning after the first full moon this term. You looked-” he swallowed, “I thought you were lucky to be alive, and I thought if I could just figure out what happened, I’d - I don’t know? - keep it from happening again.

“And then we started talking and we became friends and I wanted to get to the bottom of it because, hell, I don’t know why. I just wanted to know what happened to you. I’d never seen somebody so hurt and then get up and walk away from it. You have to believe me, Remus, I would have never followed you if I knew the truth. I wouldn’t have hurt you on purpose.”

The Gryffindor’s breathing was ragged and he’d managed to inch closer during the confession, now so close Remus could feel his body heat emanating like a furnace in the chill. It was the only thing Remus could now focus on, stunned into silence and trying to articulate the turmoil in his head, but coming up short.

Sirius had pitied him, that much was clear. Remus was a project, a means to an end. But, by Sirius’ own admission, he had done it out of concern for him. He got to know Remus and _liked_ him, and that had to mean something, right?

“Remus?”

 _Has Sirius’ voice always been this low?_ Remus wondered, dragging himself back to the present and realizing there were scant inches between them, Sirius’ breath hot on his neck and his pupils blown wide, flickering between Remus’ mouth and his eyes. He was pressed flush against the stone wall and it would be so easy to bend his head down and close the distance between them, to prove Pandora right and do the thing he’d only daydreamed of since he was fourteen.

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Remus’ breath hitched.

“Oi, Remus, where’d you go?”

Both boys stilled, Sirius’ hand hovering above Remus’ arm where he had been intent to anchor himself, and Remus’ head bent at an awkward angle just inches from the other boy’s mouth. Realization, hot and electrifying, set in and they sprung apart like they’d been burned.

Remus could hear Kingsley muttering to himself at the end of the hall, probably sent after them by Slughorn after their separate retreats from the lesson, and he prayed to whatever gods were listening that Kingsley didn’t find them hiding in a dark alcove together. He’d never hear the end of it, nor could he stand anyone to know what had nearly happened. He couldn’t look Sirius in the eye, a violent blush creeping up his neck and his cheeks as he imagined what might have been had they not been interrupted, but he could tell Sirius was thinking that same thing if his nervous squirming was any indication.

Exasperated, they heard Kingsley snort and begin going back the way he came, mumbling, “Good for nothing dungeons, fucking _maze_ they are - where the hell did he even go?” as he went.

They waited until the echo of his footsteps dissipated into silence, and then Remus was pushing himself off the wall and out of the alcove, where Sirius wasn’t so close and he could finally think clearly. He barely chanced a look at the Gryffindor before apologizing - for what, he wasn’t sure - and then he sprinted down the hall, following Kingsley’s path. By the time he reached the Potions classroom, he had a stitch in his side and felt woefully out of shape. His mind was still racing, though, ignoring the burn in his lungs. He replayed Sirius’ words over and over again in his head.

Sirius wasn’t wrong, Remus thought, when he stopped outside the classroom door to catch his breath. He’d gotten scared, and then he’d bolted.

Like he always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do yourself a favor and go listen to Prune, You Talk Funny by Gus Dapperton. I've had it on repeat and if it doesn't scream these idiots, I don't know what does.


	15. Plans

Sirius didn’t come back to Potions, which wouldn’t have been suspicious just a few short months ago, but didn’t fit into the way Sirius has been walking on eggshells since he was suspended from Quidditch and given a million years detention. It was made even odder when Lupin slunk into the dungeon classroom alone some time after Sirius had run after him, looking pale and dodgy-eyed. James couldn’t help the niggling feeling that Something Had Happened in the half hour that both boys had been gone, and he thought back to that night outside the Great Hall. Sirius refused to tell James what was really going on, but James wasn’t an idiot. He knew his best friend better than anybody, and it was clear him and the Ravenclaw were involved somehow. It was just odd that Sirius had been so tight-lipped about it. He’d never minded telling James (in explicit, unsolicited detail) about his conquests before.

Shacklebolt returned very soon after Lupin, and James was relieved that he didn’t return to their table and instead made a beeline for his friend sitting alone. In hushed, furious whispers, the Ravenclaws sat oblivious to the rest of the classroom. James could only just catch some of the exchange, words like “dangerous” and “liar” escaping through the noise of potions bubbling and other students chattering around them. Finally, Lupin turned away from the other boy resolutely and Shacklebolt stood with a huff, looking murderous as he stomped back to the lab table he shared with James.

“Trouble in paradise?” James asked nonchalantly, scraping a heaping of salamander scales into their cauldron.

Scowling, Shacklebolt wiped a hand over his dark forehead and bit out, “‘S none of your business, Potter.” And that was, apparently, going to be that.

Had Peter been sitting closer and slightly better at wandwork, James wouldn’t have minded riling the Ravenclaw up a bit, but, not willing to lose a limb, he kept quiet and continued monitoring the potion, which was turning a mottled grey. _Huh. That’s not right._

They worked in silence aside from the occasional grumble of directions, and when the period was finally over, Shacklebolt couldn’t pack up fast enough. There was still work to do on their potion before it could be considered done, but the Ravenclaw swore he’d finish it without James’ help and hurried after Lupin.

Peter joined James as he tipped his things haphazardly into his bag. “Where’d Sirius run off to, you reckon?” he inquired.

“No clue,” James sighed. “But I wish he’d at least taken me with him. Shacklebolt is a right prick on the best of days.”

“Here, here,” Peter seconded, and the two Marauders followed the rest of their classmates out of the dungeons and joined the mass exodus of students to lunch.

Sirius was already sitting at the Gryffindor table when they entered.

He had a haunted look about him, his normally golden skin pale and his grey eyes staring off like he’d just seen a ghost (which, honestly, wasn’t all that accurate of a saying because they saw ghosts everyday and it’d never failed to put a smile on Sirius’ face when Nearly Headless Nick exhibited his namesake). It oddly mirrored Lupin’s own look earlier. He literally jumped when Peter’s worn bookbag clattered onto the bench beside him.

“Oi, mate, you alright?”

Snapped out of his trance, Sirius blinked at Peter and opened his mouth to say something, and then apparently thought better of it and snapped his mouth shut. He gave a curt nod and then looked back in the direction he’d been staring when they found him, ignoring the worried glance shared between his friends.

James turned and followed Sirius’ gaze across the Great Hall. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to find that, at the end of that forlorn stare, was Remus-bloody-Lupin. He gave a great sigh and plunked down across from Sirius, effectively cutting off his view of the boy.

It was for his own good, James told himself, even as Sirius leveled him with a glare.

\--

The afternoon held a free period and Herbology for the Marauders, which Sirius dutifully made himself sparse for. If James had to guess, he’d have wagered Sirius was hiding in their dormitory, but when he trudged up to Gryffindor Tower after Sprout’s lesson, he found it empty. _Strange._

With Peter happily distracted by Frank and Alice with a game of Exploding Snap, James took off to search the castle, mild apprehension turning to full blown concern. He went to the kitchens and Sirius’ favorite broom closet for snogging and found no one but House Elves and a mortified pair of fifth years, respectively. Next he searched the Hospital Wing, afraid Sirius had gotten himself attacked with another homemade curse, but was shooed away by Madame Pomfrey when it quickly became obvious he was healthy. Finally, he trekked up to the Astronomy Tower where Sirius liked to sneak smokes.

Like the rest of his efforts, it came up empty. James muttered a curse and plopped down on the cold stone floor of the Tower, legs dangling dangerously over the lip of the ancient stones. He clutched at his wand, just in case, and let his gaze sweep over the school grounds and tops of the Forest.

James’ mum had tried telling him that Sirius might not be the same when they returned to Hogwarts, that he’d suffered a great shock and this was a trying enough time for boys their age anyways, and James hadn’t believed her. _He’s fine,_ James told her. _He’s been expecting this for years. It’s honestly a surprise it took them this long to throw him out._

His mum wasn’t convinced but she didn’t press the issue. It turned into an uncomfortable conversation about these being James’ Formative Years, and how people changed in body and mind (perhaps spending a little too much time on the body, despite James’ suffering through this same talk three years prior).

Now, though? Maybe she’d had a point and been onto something. He should have listened better.

As James was wondering how to ask for her advice without admitting she’d been right, a flash of red and gold caught his eye. He craned his head towards the Quidditch Pitch and, _there,_ flying well above the stands in loops and rolls, was a figure he’d recognize in a storm.

Relief flooding him, James pushed to his feet.

\--

Sirius couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this free, wind tearing through his hair and fingers gripping tight on polished wood and eyes watering with strain. He was at once exhausted and exhilarated, diving into another roll in the air and grunting with the effort it took to right himself again. If McGonagall caught sight of him out on the Pitch, he’d probably land himself in a Friday detention, but really, what was another one of those at this point?

Flying made him forget and he wanted so desperately to erase Remus’ face from his mind.

He gave his broom a light kick and spurned forward, faster than was probably wise. He kept his eyes trained on the hoops at the end of the pitch and tucked his elbows into his sides, drew his shoulders up to his ears. He’d thread himself though the goal and then continue on towards the outcropping of rocks and the Whomping Willow, over the lake and beyond Hogwarts grounds, into the real world where none of this would matter-

Someone was down below in the freshly cut grass, waving their arms wildly and shouting, unintelligible over the roaring of the wind in Sirius’ ears. He yanked up on the broomstick and narrowly avoided splitting himself in half by the goalpost.

“James, you stupid git!” Sirius was tempted to dive at him and give the idiot a scare, but touched ground with an _oof!_ beside him instead. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I oughtta ask you the same. Where were you today?” James looped an arm around Sirius’ shoulders and took the broom out of his hands before he could jump back on it and fly off to avoid questioning. “You missed Peter getting his hand caught in a Snargaluff Pod.”

“Damn, really? Think we could get him to do it again next class?”

“Maybe, but you’d have to actually show up for that one.”

_Touché._

Sirius batted James away and reached for the handle of his broomstick, but his taller friend held it clear out of reach.

“Fine,” Sirius groaned. “I skipped. I wasn’t feeling well.”

James raised a brow at the broomstick, as if to say _obviously not unwell enough._

“Okay, _fine,_ I just didn’t feel like going. I was going to go crazy cooped up in that damn castle a moment longer.”

Humming, James accepted this with a nod. “That sounds better. Does this have anything to do with what happened in Potions this morning?”

Sirius froze, planting his feet in the ground even as James took a step forward without him. He had been _so good_ about not thinking of it (except he really hadn’t), and why did he have to be friends with someone so bloody meddling?

“Come on, Sirius,” James sighed, turning back when he realized his friend wasn’t following. “You’re not subtle, at all. I don’t know what happened, but it’s got that Ravenclaw written all over it and you’ve been acting like a stranger all term—“

“James.” Sirius’ blood turned to ice in his veins. If he didn’t say _something_ he was afraid he’d be eaten up from the inside out with the roiling guilt and shame of lying, especially when he’d been doing enough of that all term. It was difficult to admit it to himself, much less to his best mate, but he couldn’t stop the confession tumbling out of his mouth, “You were right about me. I’m a bloody idiot and you were absolutely right about me.”

This was obviously not what James expected to hear, blinking back at him in disbelief. “Erm, what was I right about, exactly?”

Damn, he was going to make him say it.  
  
“There is something going on with me and Remus, James, and I’m pretty sure it’s entirely one-sided. I didn’t even realize what was going on until this morning. This _morning,_ James!” Sirius was practically shrieking, panic setting in, every thought he’d been trying to smother coming to the surface now that he couldn’t distract himself with flying. James looked terrified, like he was warring with running away or staying put, and Sirius charged on, “I tried snogging him this morning! _Snogging_ , James! I had him pressed against a wall and—“  
  
“Merlin, spare the details, please!” James squeaked. “I thought you two were already, erm, involved? How is this only just now happening?”  
  
“No, that was something else. I can’t tell you what, though, or McGonagall will personally see to it that I die an early death. But I think I might actually fancy the stupid git?” Sirius’ head was starting to hurt. “And I’m not sure if he cares.”  
  
James snorted. “Oh, trust me, he cares.”  
  
Heart hammering, Sirius narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t mess with me, James, or I _swear-”_  
  
“I’m not making it up, you prat! Lupin looked weird when he got back to class, and I think he and Shacklebolt were fighting about something,” James said with his arms crossed defensively across his chest.  
  
“You’re sure it wasn’t just, ‘a bloke I’m definitely not interested in just tried to snog me in the dungeons’ weird?”  
  
“I think so? I think he’d look ill if that was the case. He just looked like he’d been hit with a Confundus Charm. Shacklebolt, on the other hand...”

It was inconclusive evidence, absolutely, but a tiny bit of hope swelled in Sirius’ chest. _If,_ by some miracle, James was right, and Remus actually felt the same as he did, there was a chance Sirius hadn’t just buggered everything up that morning. He’d already done a fine job of buggering a lot of their friendship up, but this wouldn’t be another thing to add to the list. He could salvage this, maybe try again. He came on too strong this morning, there was no privacy, he should have let Remus make the first move…

Sirius refused to think about what it meant if James was wrong. He’d save that for another day, when he had the mental capabilities to feel properly ashamed and embarrassed. His emotional reserves had already been used up, _thank you very much._  
  
Sirius snatched the broom out of James’ hands before he could react and then took off past him, all but running back to the castle. He could hear James scrambling into motion and try to keep up, soon close enough behind that he could grab for Sirius’ robes.  
  
“Oi! What are you doing? Where are you going?” James sputtered, hauling him backwards.  
  
“I’m going to find Remus and—“  
  
“And what? Snog him in front of all his friends? Everyone’s at dinner already, you ninny.”  
  
_Right_ . The sun had already begun setting before James caught him out on the pitch and it was getting dark - they’d probably have to sneak by the kitchens to grab something at this rate. “I wasn’t going to _snog_ him, alright? Maybe just, you know, find a broom closet and talk or something-”

James sighed. “You’re such an idiot, but I can’t help but root for you. Let’s grab a bite before you miss your bloody detention and we’ll figure something out when you get back to the Tower. I’m sure Minny would have kittens if she found you out here,” he grabbed at Sirius’ elbow and led him towards the castle. Sirius allowed it, but not without swatting the tail of his broom in his friend’s face.

\--

True to James’ word, he waited up for Sirius to return from his detention with grim determination set on his face and bubbling with questions.

“When do you think you started to fancy him? Is this a new thing, you fancying blokes, or is it just something about that tetchy little guy? What’s it about him you like, anyways? You never talked about him before this term - how long have you actually known him?”

Sirius fought against every instinct that screamed at him to run from the invasive questions, to avoid any semblance of emotional vulnerability that James was demanding from him, but he forced himself to sit still throughout the interrogation. He supposed that after years of enduring James’ mooning over Lily and the litany of teasing questions Sirius had once asked _him,_ this was only fair.

What was more appalling, though, was how often Sirius uttered the words, “I don’t know.” A lot of what James asked were questions Sirius had pointedly ignored up until then, and he refused to begin waxing poetic about Remus like a lovesick third year.

He supposed he’d been able to appreciate the attractiveness of other boys in the past, but in a purely platonic way, he told himself. He had certainly never imagined what it would be like to kiss one of them. It must have just been something about Remus, he told himself, but what? As far as people went, Remus was good at making himself seem ordinary. He was quiet and avoided drawing attention to himself if he could manage it, but he was so damn smart and sharp with his words. He was secretive and defensive and difficult to read, but the times he’d let his guard down, Sirius had greedily taken whatever smiles and truths he could from him. He had done whatever he could to make Remus laugh, because it was obvious he didn’t do near enough of it. The boy was more than he let on, that was for certain, and Sirius thought there was still more to discover, if Remus would let him.

The image of Remus sitting beneath the shining sun in the courtyard, haloed with golden light and radiant, nose in a book, also came to mind. He hadn’t thought the word then, in such explicit terms, but Remus had been beautiful in that moment.

Sirius must have said as much without even realizing it, because James was looking at him with wide eyes, equal parts in awe and horrified.

“Wow,” James breathed. “You’re fucked, mate.”

Groaning, Sirius fell forward into his sheets and tried to smother himself in them. His face felt too hot and he wished he’d never told James in the first place.

“Oi! Don’t be so melodramatic. It happens to the best of us.” James ruffled Sirius’ hair affectionately. “And now you can’t give me shite about Lily, now you know what it’s like.”

Sirius scowled. “Waxing poetic _once_ does not make up for the five and a half years of pining I’ve endured-“

“Hey, this isn’t about me! This is about you and Lupin, and how you’re going to seduce him if he’s not already wild about you in the first place.” James sat straighter with his head held high, obviously above Sirius in these matters, “But that shouldn’t be a problem, because I’m ninety percent sure he’s gone for you already.”

“I don’t know, James…”

“Well, I do, but obviously he’s going to need some coaxing. He comes across as sort of shy.”

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So you need to find a private place to talk to him, yeah? He’s gonna bolt the moment he thinks someone else is about to show, so you have to get him alone.”

“You do realize how difficult it is to find a truly private place in this castle, right? Without breaking curfew?”

James rolled his eyes. “It’s not impossible. Find an empty classroom, cast a charm on the door, and you’ll be fine. But, if you’re really worried, just do it during dinner or something. Everyone will be down in the Great Hall, and you just have to get him to you. Send him a note or something. It doesn’t have to be hard.”

Sighing, Sirius leaned back against his pillows and stared up at the canopy of his four-poster. James was still talking, perched at the foot of the bed, but Sirius tuned him out. There was no guarantee that Remus would want to meet with him, even if he could find someplace private; Sirius didn’t share James’ confidence that his feelings were returned. No offense to his best friend, but James didn’t exactly have the best track record with reciprocation. Just the day before, James had asked Lily to accompany him to the Hallowe'en Feast that coming Friday with a flowery note, and in response she sent a flock of flying fish after him. Of all the people in the castle, she said, James was the last person she’d want to go with.

_Wait._

“James,” Sirius cut him off mid-sentence (something about stealing flowers from Sprout’s greenhouses), “shut up. I know what I’m going to do.”

James gaped at him, blinking with lack of understanding. “You didn’t like any of my plans?”

“I honestly stopped paying attention.”

“Wow. _Rude._ ”

“Yeah, well, your plans were terrible and definitely wouldn’t work. I think I’ve gotten it figured out.”

Scoffing, James kicked at Sirius halfheartedly and began to unfold himself from his cross-legged position. He was completely off the bed when he turned back to Sirius. “Well, best of luck to you then. I hope you remember all the _amazing_ advice I could have given you when you muck it all up. Don’t come crying to me when some idiot first year walks in on you and scares your Ravenclaw off again.”

The Silencing Charm around Sirius’ bed was lifted and he was met with the sound of the other boys’ snoring and the rustling of James’ covers. He was left to his own thoughts, the plan in his head still half-formed but making more and more sense as he thought on it. He just hoped it would work.

After a moment, James whispered into the dark, curious, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” Sirius replied, voice quiet, “that you’re going to have to tell me everything that happens at the Feast Friday night, because I won’t be there.”

Silence settled over the two boys and Sirius wondered if maybe James had fallen asleep. He was about to roll onto his side and do the same when he heard his friend sigh, sounding very put upon and tired, but resigned. “I’ll make sure Peter brings his camera, then?”

Sirius let out a nervous breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and smiled into his pillow. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Right, well, just make sure it was worth missing, okay? At least one of us ought to get snogged this term.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading! I can't begin to express how happy it makes me that y'all enjoy this silly little thing I'm writing.


	16. Hallowe'en

Remus was very good at running away from his problems. It was maybe not something to be proud of, but he was certain that if it were a N.E.W.T. subject he would achieve an Outstanding mark and possibly break every student record on file. He’d had a very long time to practice, after years of avoiding unsavory truths and human connection. It was proof enough that, after six years at Hogwarts, he’d only managed to befriend two people (both of whom had to try very hard and Remus not much at all, when he thought about it), and perhaps now a third (if he could even call Sirius that).

Dumbledore had given him the perfect excuse to keep running, when he told him what was going on beyond castle grounds. Sirius had done enough that term to scare Remus off from trusting anyone new ever again.

And yet, despite how good he was at it and how easy it had been before, Remus found he was tired of running. It not A Very Mature Thing To Do, which was part of it, certainly, but it was also exhausting. Perhaps it was time to stop.

The remainder of his day was spent in a weird sort of haze, replaying his morning with Sirius again and again until his eyes finally grew too heavy to stay open and he fell into a restless sleep late that night. And then he was haunted by it there, too, his dreams flashes of greenish light and nervous touches, the sound of his name on someone else’s lips. The same dream followed him every night. During the days, though, he pretended that nothing had ever happened in that dark, dungeon hallway, and tried not to let Sirius’ presence distract him in the classes they shared. If Sirius smiled at him more, crooked and easy, Remus didn’t mind it. And if Sirius tried to say hello in hallways or on the grounds, Remus didn’t run in the opposite direction.

That was progress, wasn’t it?

As Hallowe’en approached, the castle crackled with excited energy. Carved pumpkins appeared in the halls, floating out of reach with everlasting candles flickering inside them, and suits of armor gleamed with polished metal and orange streamers strung along their shoulders and heads. The ghosts were in high spirits and cackled with delight whenever a first-year jumped at each scare, and fictitious lightning and thunder cracked in the halls at random. Everyone seemed to be excited for the upcoming holiday, and Remus even let himself relax and enjoy the festivities, despite everything on his mind.

The night before Hallowe’en, though, the familiar dream plagued Remus’ sleep as it had the three nights before. Sirius’ hands on his skin were desperate now, grasping at his arms, his shoulders, his face. The touches were no longer light, no longer cautious. They burned pleasantly across his skin and sent Remus’ heart racing. Sirius leaned forward, whispering Remus’ name, and Remus could feel the other boy’s breath on his lips. Whatever hesitancy he’d felt before was gone, and he surged forward to meet Sirius’ mouth.

Jolting awake, Remus registered the fluttering of fingertips across his stomach, teasing the waistband of his sweatpants. He snatched his own hand away and stared up at the ceiling until his heart stopped racing.

Remus tried to push the memory of it away as he got ready for the day and followed Kingsley and Pandora down to breakfast, but the moment he spotted that familiar head of black hair in the Entrance Hall outside breakfast, his blood turned to ice in his veins. He hurried past Sirius and his friends, all laughing at something Sirius had said, and fought the immense feeling of guilt for once again running away.

_ Just talk to him,  _ he scolded himself.  _ It can’t be that hard. _

But, as Remus lowered himself onto the bench and let his eyes track Sirius’ movement from the door to his own House table, the feat seemed impossible.

“Oi, Lupin.” Remus felt a gentle nudge in his side and practically jumped out of his seat. Bemused, he turned to find Dirk Cresswell staring back at him. His roommate held out a folded note for him to take.

“I was told to give this to you,” Dirk explained. “Some first year wanted you to have it.”

_ That’s strange,  _ Remus thought, as he took the folded piece of parchment from him. He chanced a glance at Kingsley and Pandora, and both gave feeble shrugs. They were as clueless as he was. “Did they say what for?”

Dirk shook his head. “Not a word. Just that you were to have it and no else could look at it.”

“Did you?” Remus asked. “Look at it, I mean?”

Snorting, Dirk turned his back on him and refocused his attention on his breakfast, effectively ending that line of questioning.

Kingsley and Pandora leaned forward at the same moment, eyes glued to the parchment in Remus’ hands. He flipped it over and traced his fingers along the blank surface, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue.

“Well?” Kingsley prodded, “What are you waiting for? It’s not a Howler, is it?”

The color drained from Remus’ face. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind!”

“Oh, shush! It’s definitely not a Howler, you ninnies,” Pandora chided them both, reaching for the note in Remus’ hands. She unfolded it before either boy could protest and began to read, the wrinkle in her brow furrowing deeper with each passing second. “Huh.”

“What? What is it?”

Pandora batted Kingsley’s curious, questing hands away and passed it back across the table to Remus, who took it wearily. “It doesn’t make any sense to me,” she explained. “Do you know what that means, Remus?”

Finally, Remus looked down at the note and read the neat scrawl.

_ 811.6 RA _

Remus frowned. Something about it was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it, brushing the pad of his thumb over the dried ink as if hoping to absorb its meaning through osmosis.

“Give it here.” Kingsley took the parchment from him with little resistance and ran it over quickly. He scoffed, then handed it back with a smirk. “It’s a reference number for a book. Honestly, Remus, I expected better from you.”

Blushing, Remus snatched the note from his outstretched hand and read it again with this new revelation. He mumbled his thanks and then put it in his pocket, firmly placing it out of sight and out of mind for the time being.

This did not hold true for Pandora, however, and she wondered aloud, “Who is it from, do you think? Obviously the first year was just the messenger.”

“Oh, I think we know who it’s from,” Kingsley grumbled into his drink, garnering a pointed glare from both friends. “What? You know I’m right.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so upset about it.”

Kingsley rolled his eyes. “He’s caused nothing but trouble, so excuse me if I’m not so excited that he’s writing cryptic notes and making first years deliver them now.”

“I think it’s nice! He’s clearly trying to make things right-”

It quickly dissolved into bickering that Remus could find no opportunity to jump into, which was fine by him, if he was being honest. He resolutely ignored them, stabbing his sausages with more intensity than was necessary and shoveling breakfast into his mouth to keep the questions from tumbling out. He wanted nothing more than to jump up from the table and rush to the library to find the book he was meant to be searching for, but he couldn’t let the rest of his day revolve around the blasted note. He would finish his meal, attend classes as normal, and venture into the library when every other responsibility had been seen to. The book would, hopefully, still be there when he arrived.

Remus had just taken a large bite when the unmistakable feeling of being watched washed over him, and he swiveled in his seat to find the source. His eyes landed on the culprit almost immediately.

From across the Great Hall, surrounded by his fellow sixth years at Gryffindor table, Sirius was smirking at him, ink-stained fingers waving hello.

\--

Needless to say, Remus could not ignore the note in his pocket. It felt like it was burning a hole there, in the fabric of his hand-me-down trousers, and he found himself checking for the outline of it constantly: after washing his hands in the loo, after dodging rambunctious Hufflepuffs in the corridor, after being shoved into the wall by Snape and Sirius’ little brother before Arithmancy. Kingsley and Pandora had continued to fight about the damn piece of parchment throughout breakfast and into lessons, too, which hadn’t helped at all.

Pandora thought it was romantic, and Kingsley thought it was weird and suspicious.

“Honestly, what’s he thinking?” Kingsley complained as they shouldered their bags and left Charms. Remus bit back a sigh - Kingsley had managed to stay quiet all through Professor Flitwick’s lesson, and he’d thought he was done with it. “He’s got a lot of nerve, thinking he can pull this stunt after the shit he’s done.”

“I think he’s trying to apologize!” Pandora countered passionately, pressing closer to Kingsley so that Remus had to fall a few steps behind. “It speaks to how well he knows Remus, if he’s using a library book to do it!”

“Anyone who has ever seen Remus  _ ever  _ knows he likes to read, Dora. And how do you know this is leading up to some big apology? Who’s to say this isn’t another one of his pranks? I don’t trust him, not a bit.”

_ This is getting ridiculous,  _ Remus thought, purposely slowing his pace until he was falling a good few feet behind. Pandora huffed and said that she could just  _ tell,  _ which had Kingsley flying into another tirade about trust and character. Neither noticed his lack of presence or contribution to the discussion as they turned the corner and Remus did not follow.

Remus should have felt guilty for not lasting as long as he’d promised himself, but the need to satiate his curiosity was far stronger than his willpower. The niggling fear that someone else would happen across the book meant for him kept increasing as the day went on, too, and with his friends’ attention elsewhere, he could easily sneak to the library during his free period and find whatever it was that Sirius left for him. He was clueless as to what it could actually be, but he felt certain it was  _ something  _ important.

Monday’s events came back to him as he strode quickly along the hallways.

Maybe he hadn’t been imagining things; maybe Sirius really had been trying to kiss him, and this was some way of resolving things. Remus didn’t want to think about what would happen if Kingsley was right, though, and this was some elaborate prank - he couldn’t quite believe it possible when he remembered how close Sirius had been, how he looked at him.

His breathing was labored when Remus finally reached the library, but it had nothing to do with the brisk walk and climb upstairs.

The library was empty aside from Madam Pince, unsurprisingly. Students were rushing to their last class of the day, and wouldn’t be filling the tables to study or begin homework until later. For now, it was quiet and still, with the light filtering in through clouded glass windows and marking the space with a peaceful, ethereal sort of glow. It was the way Remus liked the library best, when there was no one else here to disturb the mid-afternoon silence. There was no time to linger and bask in it, though, tempting as it was.

With a steadying breath, Remus moved past the librarian’s desk and into the stacks, slow like he was wading through water, such a stark contrast to the rush to be here just moments before. His eyes lingered on the placards at each end of the aisles, counting as he got closer and closer to the number Sirius had left him.

_ 600s, 700s, 800s… _

Remus pulled the parchment from his pocket and raised it to compare to the stack he’d moved into. There were shelves upon shelves of English literature and poetry that stretched from the floor upward, nearly brushing the top of the paneled ceiling overhead. Books that were older than him sat innocuously together with books with spines that had barely been touched, the soft scent of vanilla lingering in the air around them as time worked its magic on old glues and bindings.

He quickly went to work on finding the reference number given to him, starting at the bottom and moving past all the Muggle anthologies of literature and Classical Works, Wizarding and Muggle alike. His fingers lingered over leather-soft spines of Austen and Defoe, tempted to take them with him, but he quickly moved on, mind focused on the task at hand. Finally, on his tip-toes, he grasped at the books of poetry.

It took summoning a ladder and quieting his nervous trembling to find what he was looking for, up high above his head and hiding, tucked between two larger tomes that nearly kept it out of sight.

Remus wrapped an arm securely around the wooden frame of the ladder to keep him from falling, now several feet from the ground, and reached for the thin, hardbound book, its reference number etched in gold on its black spine:  _ 811.6 RA.  _ He turned the book over in his hands, still hugging the ladder for stability, and frowned.

It was a collection of poetry, one that he did not recognize, nor did it have a title engraved on the front. A corner of folded parchment stuck out between the front pages, though, and with a jolt, Remus knew he’d found the right book. He slipped a finger under the cover to the title page and unfolded the letter waiting for him. In the same neat script as the note now safely hidden away in his pocket again, it read:

 

_ R, _

_ You’ll excuse the dramatics, won’t you? I thought a little scavenger hunt might be something you’d like, being the bookworm you are. It took me all week to find this damn thing. I hope you actually figured it out in time though, and this isn’t some swotty stranger reading this years from now. If it is, hey! Bugger off! This isn’t for you! Wanker. _

_ Right. Straight to the point, shall we? _

_ I don’t regret what happened. During Potions, I mean. You know I regret a lot of what’s happened this term, but never that. Something tells me you might feel the same way, but I don’t want to assume. I’ve put you through enough hell already and I’m astonished I’m not dead to you yet. _

_ (...I’m not, right?) _

_ If by some miracle, you do feel the same way, find me where secret rendezvous are held - tonight, 6 o’clock. We’ve met there before, although under far less enjoyable circumstances (not that spending time with you in any capacity is unenjoyable, but you get my meaning, I think). If you don’t show, I’ll understand. _

_ But I hope you will. Show up, I mean. I’ll be there regardless. _

_ -S _

 

Remus read it over again and again, until he’d seared it into his memory, a traitorous smile tugging at his mouth. It wasn’t some flowery prose or confession of undying love, that was certain, but it was  _ something.  _ It was more than avoiding each other like they had been off and on all term, and better than being outright rejected. He thought Pandora would be pleased, but Kingsley would try to talk him out of it if he knew.

But neither needed to know, Remus decided, and so it didn’t matter what they would think. It only mattered that he make up his mind and, for once in his life, not run away from something he so desperately wanted.

He read it one more time, just to make himself laugh, and then folded it back up along its creases, reaching to tuck it into his pocket with the other note. As he moved to shut the book still in his hands, though, he finally read the title page:

_ Missing the Moon _

Remus couldn’t smother the smile fast enough, even as he placed the book back on its shelf, righted the ladder, and strode quickly past a curious Madam Pince.

\--

At six o’clock on the dot, Remus climbed up the rickety steps to the Quidditch stands, using his wand as a light in the quickly darkening evening. Whatever confidence he felt in the library was gone, and he was doubting every decision he’d made since finding Sirius’ letter.

Neither Pandora nor Kingsley knew he was here. He’d successfully avoided them since parting ways with them in the afternoon, and had hid in the nooks and crannies of the castle he rarely ever visited to keep from being found. He knew if he saw them, he’d have to make up some excuse to not accompany them down to the Hallowe’en Feast, and he couldn’t bring himself to lie.

Remus was certain Pandora would have been excited for him, had she known, but he didn’t put it past Kingsley to try and lock him in their dorm, or follow him to meet Sirius and ruin the entire thing by threatening him to a duel. No, it was better to avoid them entirely and apologize for his tardiness when he eventually turned back up.

Avoiding them meant he hadn’t returned to the Tower, though, and Remus hadn’t been able to change out of his school robes or grab a warmer jacket. As he ascended the final flight of stairs, he wondered if he looked stupid, coming up here for their  _ secret rendezvous  _ in his worn tweed trousers and pilled grey sweater, ribbed with bronze and blue. He’d never put much thought into what he wore before, but suddenly he wished he’d had the courage to go back to the dorm and change, even if it meant running into Kingsley, and at least put on a less worn-looking sweater. 

But there was no time to turn back, now. Remus reached the top step and drew a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was waiting for him. He emerged from the narrow stairwell and looked out into the quiet stands for the familiar head of black hair--

And found nothing. No one.

The stands were completely empty, and with this realization Remus felt his heart drop down into his stomach. He collapsed on the nearest bench, legs and heart suddenly numb.

_ Kingsley was right; this was a lark, just a stupid joke at my expense. Sirius never fancied me. He never wanted to kiss me. He just wanted a laugh, and I fell for it, like an idiot. He’s probably at the Feast right now, telling all his friends how he tricked the stupid werewolf and-- _

Footsteps pounded up the stairwell suddenly, and Remus snapped to attention, an odd sense of d é j à vu falling over him as he remembered a time he’d once ventured up here for quiet and found none. It played out much the same way, with Remus staring open-mouthed at the landing until a bundled figure emerged from the steps, looking frazzled and windblown and out of breath.

Sirius looked like a crazed man, eyes wide and chest heaving, until he spotted him. The relief in his features was palpable as he realized Remus was there, waiting.

“Merlin, I’m so sorry I’m late. I meant to get up here ages ago, but James and Peter needed my help before the Feast, and it took forever,” the Gryffindor said breathlessly. He took a step forward, but stopped when he was close enough to get a good look at Remus, something in his expression making him frown. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Remus could have cursed himself for being such an open book, quickly blinking back the tears that stung his eyes more than the wind could, hoping it was dark enough Sirius couldn’t quite see them. He wet his lips nervously. “Yeah, sorry, it’s stupid.”

Taking another step forward, Sirius shook his head. “It’s not stupid, whatever it is. You can tell me. What’s wrong?”

“I thought I’d been stood up,” Remus laughed mirthlessly. He looked away from the other boy, the heat of Sirius’ gaze suddenly too much.

The wooden bench creaked beneath Remus with the added weight of another person. Remus could feel Sirius’ body heat now, he was sitting so close. It took all of his willpower not to stand and run away.

“I’m sorry.”

Remus turned to look at him again. He had been right - there were scant inches between their thighs, not quite touching but the space easily closed if he shifted himself enough in the right direction. Staring at the empty space between them, Remus said, “I’m still mad at you. For what you did during the full moon. You could have been killed.”

Sirius took a deep breath and rested his hand in the empty space, his pinky finger brushing against Remus’ thigh; an offering.

“I know. You have every right to be.”

For some reason it was what Remus expected him to say, and an irritated groan tore from his lips. Irrationally, he wanted Sirius to be angry, too, to call him a monster and a freak and live up to every fear Remus had since he’d met him. As much as he wanted to believe Sirius cared about him, he didn’t think he really deserved it. He’d only hurt Sirius in the end, only disappoint him. It was foolish to think otherwise. “You’re just-”

“Just what?”

“You’re reckless! And arrogant, and-” Remus shook his head, looking away again. “You were lucky this last time, but who’s to say you won’t ever get hurt? I’m  _ dangerous _ , Sirius, and the sooner you realize that, the better.”

Sirius scoffed. “I think I can make that kind of decision for myself, thanks. I know you think you’re this horrible killing machine, but that’s not what I see when I look at you. You’re more than that.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you see when you look at me, hmm? Just another stupid Ravenclaw with his nose in a book?”

A warm hand covered Remus’ own, clenched on the tops of his thighs. Sirius squeezed his fingers gently until the tension left them and Remus couldn’t help but look him in the eye, tearing his gaze from their clasped hands in his lap and feeling more than a little out of breath. His heart seized at the intensity in Sirius’ silver eyes.

“I see,” Sirius began, voice quiet but firm, “a smart, clever boy who doesn’t laugh nearly as much as he should and doesn’t fit in. But, I don’t feel like I fit in, either, and that’s what I like about you. You’re passionate and strong, and I can’t stop thinking about you, even when we’re not speaking to each other. I like you, even if all we ever do is fight.”

The wind whipped in Remus’ face and ears and he stared, awestruck and disbelieving, at the boy in front of him. It was more than he could have hoped, that Sirius actually returned some of his feelings. He’d come tonight hoping for an explanation for what happened between them in the dungeons, maybe letting Pandora’s optimism guide his actions, but this was more than he’d bargained for. He didn’t know what to say, how to react. His heart was pounding.

The silence stretched for too long and Sirius’ grip on Remus’ hand started to loosen, Sirius’ face suddenly contorting into an expression of discomfort, mouth pursed and brow furrowed. He began to pull away, and the panic set in.

Remus practically lunged, grabbing Sirius by the collar of his coat and the crook of his arm. Sirius stilled, eyes wide, but said nothing. He’d spoken enough already, Remus figured, and it was his turn to finally say something.

“I’m an idiot.”

And then Remus kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before and I'll say it again: thank you for your patience and continued reading! I honestly can't believe anyone has stuck around this long, but I appreciate it more than you'll know. Although, you may hate me a little bit after this sappy cliffhanger ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> For the sake of this fic, I've bastardized the Dewey Decimal System and pretended it's used by the Hogwarts library. "Missing the Moon" is a real title of a real book, but I've never read it and I doubt it's a collection of sappy poems.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Your comments bring me joy <3


	17. Hallowe'en, Continued

Sirius had kissed his fair share of girls in the past. He’d had his first kiss when he was thirteen, after Gryffindor won their first Quidditch game of the season, and a fourth year by the name of Lorna Zimmerman bestowed him with a celebratory kiss outside the changing rooms. He found then that he quite liked kissing - it had been chaste, both parties a little embarrassed, but ultimately pleased with themselves. Lorna’s lips were soft and tasted like her strawberry-flavored lip balm.

Less chaste kisses followed over the years, and Sirius thought he knew what to expect, after all his practice and expertise. He knew where to put his hands and how much of himself to give, how to tell if the girl he was with liked it and how to adjust course if she didn’t (which happened very rarely, and it wasn’t bragging if it was true).

But he’d been completely unprepared for Remus.

For a horrifying moment, Sirius thought he’d misunderstood everything.

“I like you, even if all we ever do is fight,” he’d said, emphatically and breathlessly, squeezing Remus’ hand to convey just how much he meant it. Remus stared at him with his mouth open, hazel eyes as big as the waxing moon shining down on them, and said nothing.

_ Absolutely nothing. _

A long, pregnant silence fell over them both and Sirius felt shame roil deep in his gut.  _ I shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have listened to James, should have just let it go.  _ He started to pull away, an apology on the tip of his tongue -  _ I’m so sorry, I thought you felt the same way; I’m terribly sorry  _ \- and then Remus sprung.

Literally, sprung from his seat, straight at Sirius.

“I’m an idiot.”

And then Remus kissed him.

For a moment, Sirius forgot to breathe, mind whirring with the discovery that Remus was  _ warm,  _ warmer than he remembered, despite the cooling night air, and that he tasted faintly like tea and chocolate. He registered that Remus’ lips were chapped, but it didn’t bother him, and that Remus kissed like a desperate man finding water in the desert. They’d knocked teeth and bumped noses, but Remus didn’t seem to notice and Sirius found that he really didn’t mind. Especially when Remus’ mouth parted and Sirius took full advantage, tongue swiping along his bottom lip, and he felt Remus all but melt into him.

He thought it might be the best kiss he’d ever had, actually.

Sirius’ hands found their way up Remus’ biceps and shoulders and into his hair, thumb brushing gently against Remus’ smooth jawline. Remus tugged him closer, winding an arm around his back, and Sirius couldn’t help himself; he groaned, embarrassingly loud.

Whatever spell they were under broke. Remus pulled back to catch his breath and stared, eyes wide and pupils blown, and Sirius couldn’t bear to tug his own gaze away. He didn’t remove his hands from the sides of Remus’ neck, and Remus didn’t let go of Sirius’ jacket collar. There were scant inches between them and neither seemed willing to move any further away.

Distantly, a voice in Sirius’ head warned him that they were out in the open, that there was nothing to hide them from prying eyes up in the stands, but he ignored it. He wouldn’t have minded if the entire school saw them, if it meant getting to kiss Remus like that again.

“That was…” Remus breathed, still looking at him in a daze, “ _ Wow. _ ”

Sirius laughed, nodding in agreement. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on Remus’ shoulder, letting his eyes fall closed and hands drift to Remus’ waist. He was once again struck by how warm Remus was, and faintly remembered reading something about werewolves’ body temperatures running higher than normal witches and wizards. He took a deep breath and found that Remus smelled like vanilla and sandalwood, which suited him perfectly, reminding him of the woods and temple smoke. It made his stomach swoop and he inhaled it again, already addicted.

“You’re really good at that,” Sirius murmured into Remus’ shoulder after another long silence passed. He felt Remus straighten a little underneath him, fingers gripping his arm tightly.

“Good at what?”

Turning his face into Remus’ neck, Sirius pressed his lips gently against the skin there, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. “Kissing,” he explained.

“Oh.”

Sirius pulled back, suddenly worried he had said something strange, when he saw the furious flush creeping up Remus’ cheeks, stark as day in the darkness falling over them. When no explanation was forthcoming, realization donned on him and he had to hold back another laugh, surprised and strangely overjoyed.

“Oh my god, I’m your first kiss, aren’t I? I can’t  _ believe  _ it! How have you managed this long without snogging someone with a face like that, I swear-”

Remus cut him off with another kiss, hands on Sirius’ cheeks and so close he was practically falling into his lap. Had it been any other moment, Sirius would have happily continued his teasing, but Remus was slipping his tongue into his mouth and he found he far preferred this. He threw his arms around the other boy’s neck and gave as good as he got, smiling like an idiot when they finally broke for air.

\--

They missed the Feast entirely.

When Sirius had first come up with the idea to have Remus meet him that night, he’d done so with the assumption that they’d have a chat about their feelings, clear the air,  _ maybe  _ get up to some snogging if Sirius was really lucky, and then hop on down to the Great Hall to enjoy the rest of their holiday evening. He hadn’t even been sure Remus would agree to meet him - he was totally stealing James’ idea to write a letter, which hadn’t turned out very well for him, and regretted not taking a more direct approach the moment he hid his  _ actual  _ letter in the library. He hadn’t wanted to risk Remus refusing him outright if he tried giving it to him in person, though, nor did he want someone to intercept the note if sent by owl or messenger. If anything, he thought Remus would be too intrigued by a riddle to say no. He had high hopes he’d figure it out in time, and he imagined they’d be back in the castle by dessert.

Except, Sirius hadn’t prepared for how  _ much  _ snogging (and talking, too) there would be, and how difficult it would be to stop it when it started. It was like a dam breaking, and Sirius couldn’t help it; he greedily accepted whatever Remus felt comfortable enough to share, which, was more than he felt he deserved. He learned that Remus had moved around a lot because his father was bent on finding a cure and that he’d never had friends until Hogwarts, and Sirius told Remus about being disowned that past summer, even if he was sure he’d already heard the gossip around the school. Remus told him about his plans for after graduation -  _ travel, maybe continue his father’s work, can’t get a job with the Ministry even if he wanted  _ \- and Sirius confessed he’d wanted to be an Auror since he met James. And then they’d kissed some more, Remus proving to be an exceptionally adept learner.

To say the evening went better than he expected was an understatement.

It was completely dark outside by the time they separated, the only light to see by the shine of the stars and moon. Lights flickered like candles from the castle windows, but they were so far away that they could barely make out the grounds below. It made for an eerily beautiful glow haloing Remus’ features.

Sirius said as much, cupping Remus’ cheek, and he felt more than saw Remus’ blush. He gave into the temptation he’d had since that fateful morning at the beginning of term, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Remus’ mouth, where the scar came to a sloping end.

“I had no idea you’d be such a romantic,” Remus whispered, lips curling into a gentle, teasing smile when Sirius pulled back.

In all honesty, Sirius hadn’t known he’d be, either.

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.” Remus swatted at him and he nearly fell off the bench, shaking with laughter.

They decided it was time to head back inside when the wind started to pick up, billowing Sirius’ long hair in his face and making him shiver despite his layers, and both their stomachs grumbled in protest.

Remus tugged at his sleeve to reveal an old watch on his wrist, the leather band cracked with age. “Bugger,” he frowned. “It’s nearly curfew. Do you think they’ve cleared dinner away already?”

“I’m sure they have, but don’t worry; I’ve got connections.” Sirius stood, legs and knees stiff with cold, and held out a hand for Remus. He took it, and pulled himself upright. Neither let the other’s hand go. “Come on.”

“Connections?”

The boys shuffled closer to each other as they headed for the staircase, Sirius staying close to leech some of Remus’ body heat and Remus uncomplaining, even as it made going down stairs more cumbersome.

Sirius grinned at him. “You’ll see! Don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“I  _ hate  _ surprises.”

“Of course you do. But this is a good one, I promise. You’ll like it.”

They made their way down from the stands without tripping over each other and across the grounds with hands clasped and teasing each other quietly, Sirius relishing each chuckle that left Remus’ lips. They only dropped hands when they came into view of the courtyard and the open arches that led inside. That didn’t keep Sirius from walking as close to Remus as possible without seeming suspicious to the few students who still roamed the halls, leading him by the elbow down to the kitchens.

The urge to drag Remus into a broom closet and continue their previous activities was strong, but Sirius found that he liked this, too; spending time with Remus in the open, the air between them easy and no more secrets between them, and talking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really enjoyed talking to someone he’d just finished snogging a few minutes before.

Remus bumped shoulders with him as they neared the Entrance Hall, pulling Sirius out of his head.

“Will you be free this weekend? I was thinking we should probably finish that potion for Slughorn at some point before class Monday.”

Sirius groaned. “Fuck, I completely forgot about it. I’m behind in everything this week. Maybe we could-  _ gah! _ ”

They’d just rounded the corner when Remus clutched at Sirius’ arm and pulled him back without warning. Whatever lightness he’d felt dissolved into a tense, worried buzzing in his ears.

“Shit,” Remus mumbled, going pale and flattening himself against the wall. Stumbling, Sirius followed. He frowned, opened his mouth to ask  _ what’s going on?  _ but was cut off with a curt shake of the head. Remus raised his finger to his lips to insinuate quiet and turned his face just slightly, attention caught by something in the corridor beyond.

Finally, Sirius could hear what it was that had Remus worried.

“Snape,” he breathed, leaning past Remus to crane his head around the corner to get a look.

Perched on the steps of the Marble Staircase, Snape sat hunched with his face cradled in his hands, visibly shaking. Regulus sat beside him, partially obscured from view by Snape’s dark figure, but Sirius would recognize his profile anywhere - it was nearly identical to his, after all. His little brother had his arm slung over Snape’s shoulders and face turned towards his feet, awkward and silent as Snape collected himself.

Neither Sirius nor Remus made a sound, breaths shallow and completely still in the shadows.

Snape let out a great, shuddering sob, and Regulus shifted uncomfortably. “Come on, it wasn’t- it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad, Severus,” Regulus said.

“Don’t  _ lie  _ to me!” Snape snapped, shrugging off his friend’s feeble support. “I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life! Do you know what it’s like, to be laughed at by the entire school? I’ll never live this down!”

_ Oh. Right.  _ Sirius had almost completely forgotten about the Marauders’ prank that night. He’d even helped James and Peter finish it up right before he’d left to meet Remus - the long, white beards he’d conjured on for them had been some of his best work. Their resemblance to Dumbledore had been uncanny. Obviously, the prank had worked wonderfully, if Snape was this upset.

Regulus said something, too quiet for them to hear, and Snape laughed, sharp and mirthless. “You can’t protect your brother anymore, Reg. I know it was him and his  _ stupid  _ friends. And they’re not going to get away with it!”

At this proclamation, Remus nudged Sirius in his side to get his attention and raised a brow, clearly intrigued. Sirius could only shrug and look properly abashed; he’d have to explain the whole thing later, when they weren’t in danger of being cursed upon sight by his least favorite person in the world and his own little brother. It obviously hadn’t gone over well the last time they tried.

“It’ll blow over in a couple weeks, Severus,” Regulus tried to reason with his friend, “like it always does. No one will remember you tried to kiss the Headmaster when someone else causes another scene a couple weeks from now.”

Snape shot to his feet. He glared down at the younger boy furiously, fists clenched at his sides like he was getting ready to use them, and Regulus just sat there, frozen, staring up at him in fear. “ _ Never mention it again, _ ” Snape hissed. Lightning quick, he grabbed for his wand from beneath his cloak and held it at Regulus’ face.

Sirius saw red, and without thinking tried to round the corner and rush at the slimy git, his fingers already curled around his wand and a hex on the tip of his tongue. But, Remus clutched at his arms and yanked him back, holding him in place with surprising strength. He looked up at him, ready to protest, but the stony glint in Remus’ eyes kept him from fighting back. Defeated, he relaxed.

Regulus didn’t need his help, anyways. Snape had barely finished spewing his vitriol when Regulus pushed himself up to his feet and knocked the wand away from his face, the air around him crackling with furious magic. “I am  _ not  _ the enemy here!” he all but shouted, poking Snape hard in the chest. He pulled his own wand out from his pocket and pointed it to Snape’s heart. “If you’re angry, don’t take it out on me! I am your only friend here, and you know it. Without me, you’d have no one!”

For an achingly long moment, the Slytherins simply stood on the steps and glared at each other, chests heaving and wands raised. Sirius and Remus watched with bated breaths as the seconds dragged on, only relaxing when the wands slowly began to lower, dissolving the palpable tension in the air with each second that passed.

“I’m sorry,” Snape finally ground out. Sirius thought it pained him to say the words aloud.

Regulus seemed not to care or notice, though, and nodded, the conflict now firmly resolved in his mind. “What do you want to do about them, then?”

With his back turned to them, Sirius couldn’t see Snape’s face, but he could hear each word clearly as he said, “We put those filthy Blood Traitors in their place.”

“Sounds good to me,” Regulus responded, stowing his wand away. “We’ll come up with something.”

The two Slytherins finally made to leave, collecting themselves and acting totally normal, like Snape  _ hadn’t  _ just been sobbing like a baby on the steps and threatening dramatic retribution. With a start, Sirius and Remus realized they were walking towards their hiding spot and quickly shuffled backwards, until they were hidden completely by the shadows.

Remus waited until their footsteps could no longer be heard down the other end of the hall before exhaling, deflating like a balloon. He slumped back against the stones and closed his eyes, fingers dragging through his hair. Sirius leaned back beside him, eyes trained on his shoes and replaying what they’d just witnessed in his head. Something told him that this wasn’t just about pranks anymore.

“What the hell did you do to him this time?” Remus asked, cracking his eyes open to watch Sirius at his side.

Sirius grimaced. “In my defense, I didn’t have a whole lot to do with it, this time - it was mostly James’ idea, and Snape deserved it after the stunt he pulled with that curse--”

Remus arched an eyebrow at him and Sirius sighed. Right. His excuses didn’t really matter, especially not in the light of Snape’s wrath. “Okay, fine. James, Peter, and I brewed a love potion and slipped it to him last week. It had one of Dumbledore’s hairs in it, and it was supposed to go off tonight. They even dressed up like Dumbledore for Hallowe’en to rub it in.” Sirius shrugged. “I guess it worked?”

It was impossible to tell what Remus was thinking now, his face carefully still as Sirius explained. The only indication he gave that he’d even registered the words was a slight twitch of his mouth, like he was trying to smother a frown. 

Sirius shifted closer, tugging on Remus’ sleeve. “Are you mad?” Merlin, he sounded like a kid who’d just been scolded, and Remus hadn’t even said anything.

Blinking, Remus turned to look him straight-on. “What? No, of course not. Snape’s a git,” he shook his head, and Sirius felt himself falling a little more in love with the Ravenclaw. “I’m just thinking about what Snape said. Do you think he’ll actually do anything?”

A memory of two boys in the library, whispering about their summers and secrets and newfound power, came rushing back to Sirius, and his mouth went dry. He nodded, dread settling thick and heavy in his gut. He didn’t want to believe his brother would have anything to do with Snape’s plans - hoped he still felt some familial affection for him - but that ship had sailed a long time ago. Sirius had even helped it along.

“Great,” Remus sighed. A beat passed where the two of them said nothing, both staring down at their shoes in thought, until a loud rumbling ripped through the silence. Remus straightened, face red with embarrassment, and Sirius couldn’t hold back his bark of laughter. It was well past curfew now, and without James’ cloak they’d have to be careful not to be caught wandering the castle, but Sirius had made Remus a promise and he was determined to keep it.

Sirius took Remus’ hand and pulled him out of their shadowy hiding spot, smiling at how easily Remus followed. “Come on, I’ve still got that surprise to show you. We’ll worry about Snivellus later.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally with the smoochin’, am I right? I’m a bit rusty on writing ~romance~ but it was genuinely exciting to finally get to this part.
> 
> In this universe, Remus is secretly a fan of his mother’s old Harlequin Romances and has become quite the Expert on Kissing Theory (you best bet he’s been waiting for the best time to put all that to practice). Not even Kingsley knows about the stack he keeps at the bottom of his trunk.
> 
> And Sirius is just a big goof. That’s all I can say about that.
> 
> Lastly, I’m genuinely sorry if anyone reading this is a diehard Snape-fan - he’s a total shit in this fic, and for that I apologize. But also, he’s a kid who’s been ruthlessly bullied for years, and he’s finally got a little bit of power, so I think this characterization falls into line with canon-teenager Snape. I'll do my best not to make him totally unredeemable as the plot moves forward, though. That doesn't seem entirely fair.
> 
> ANYWAYS. Thanks as always for reading. If you liked it, please let me know in the comments! I’m also really curious if there’s something you’d like to know about/see happen in this AU? Let me know!


End file.
